Tell Me Your Secrets
by Ladyfun
Summary: Hermione and Fleur, post-war, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One evening, courtesy of firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't unring a bell, once rung...or the actions that result. Fleurmione!
1. A little bit of Admin

Okay, here's the deal: this story is taking the place of a story previously published that some of you have already reviewed.

Welp, I have to confess, this website has me totally stymied. I can't post new stories, so I'm recycling this space for a Fleurmione deal. Sorry if it made a few of you ponder, "WTF, Ladyfun?" Now onto the story...

(and if anyone feels like offering some tech support to those of your less fortunate drabblers..specifically, such as ME, shoot me a PM!)


	2. Truth Serum

**Tell Me Your Secrets.**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its accessories. That belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. All for good non-profit fun only.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Chapter 1: Truth Serum.**

It was unclear what led to the copious amounts of fire whiskey they drank that particular evening; it was never their drink of choice, given their druthers. Professor Delacour would opt for some robust Pinot, generally of the French Vouvray collection; Professor Granger rarely strayed from her rather tepid butterbeer, earning her a sound ribbing from her drinking partner, the French witch, who would without fail tease her for choosing a drink for a "twelve year old."

The English witch would respond with a predictable scathing glare, good-naturedly.

"Perhaps..." The brunette would respond with a twinkle, "...but let us not forget, dearest Fleur, that I had_ excellent_ taste as a twelve-year-old, thank you very much!"

Hermione would then hoist the beverage to her lips with aplomb.

Fleur would then chuckle to herself, as she did, every time, clearly amused by her friend. She would smile a secret smile to herself, one that would never escape the observant eyes of her dearest friend.

"Friday Night Beverages" had become the routine between the two junior faculty members almost instantly during the start of their tenure at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, nearly a year and a half prior. Their "girls night out" took place every Friday night, without fail, after their respective seventh period class and the dinner assembly had been dismissed by the Headmistress.

The Friday night tradition led to others, becoming the first of many that caused them to become -to most observers at Hogwarts- nearly inseparable.

Perhaps it was inevitable.

Their closeness that developed was sort of by default, they reasoned to themselves. After all, there was nearly a twenty five year age difference between the two of them and the next youngest faculty member; that generation gap was likely the reason, one would surmise, leading to their gravitation pull towards one another.

That's what they told themselves, anyway.

Fleur and Hermione fell into an instant routine, despite of some differences. Despite their wildly divergent backgrounds- Hermione was the wizarding world's most famous muggleborn witch, distinguishing herself as a member of the Golden Trio with her intimidating brainpower that led to the demise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She was still one of Wizarding England's most popular celebrities and constantly sought out - even more so these days than the other 2/3 of the Golden Trio. It was likely because she despised the attention and rarely gave public interviews. It fed the curiosity of the general public. The attention was counterintuitive, as Hermione rarely did anything in an ostentatious manner. She dressed simply, and lived simply. It was ironic that so much attention found her irrespective of her frugal demeanor.

Fleur, on the other hand, screamed "flashy" ...in every sense of the word. Attention on her was always immediate for her looks as well as her pedigree. She was born into one of the oldest magical families in Europe, the daughter of power and prestige courtesy of the Delacour family name. Additionally, being endowed with her sublime Veela genetics ensured she was impossible for most to take their eyes off of when she entered a room. The combination of these two facts resulted in Fleur's cult of personality of one known primarily for her obscenely gorgeous visage and her sex appeal. Just as ironically as Hermione, she did nothing inherently to generate this unwanted attention; and like Hermione, it bothered her more than she cared to admit. _Unlike_ Hermione, however, she was almost always written off as 'without substance', despite graduating first in her class, her selection as a Triwizard Champion, and her heroic efforts during the war. It frustrated the gorgeous Veela more than she would ever admit.

Certainly, it was unexpected that the two witches had navigated such a close friendship as professors. Prior to their mutual Hogwarts appointment 18 months prior, their friendship was always a tad..._shaky_.

It was hard to explain why.

They had never truly felt fully comfortable around the other, and so, they tended to avoid one another. If asked, their opinion of the other one was always wildly complementary; but in any one-on-one situation, they made each other feel a certain way...

Nervous?

Uncomfortable?

Definitely... _uneasy._

The normally glib Fleur Delacour would find herself at a loss for words and inexplicably awkward around the younger witch. The brilliant Griffindor, Hermione, would find herself unable to generate a rational thought around the other, finding herself unable to string together a single idea or topic. Eventually, she would turn into a stuttering mess. Both would blush with embarrassment, and end the contact, somewhat uncomfortably.

Despite this, they seemed to always have a curiosity about the other, on some level. Their eyes would seek out the other and offer a shy smile at functions or family events. They would always inquire about the other, and seek information, keeping up with the goings-on of their fellow witch.

When Ron finally wore Hermione down three years prior to Hermione's Hogwarts position, and she accepted his offer of marriage, the Golden Girl remembered Fleur offering her a lukewarm congratulations and a kiss on the cheek that left Hermione feeling unusually flushed. Fleur, she remembered, had a sad smile, and had offered her a faint congratulations.

"_Welcome to ze family, 'ermione."_

_"I guess we'll be sisters, in a sense, right?" Hermione said, quietly, scanning the eyes of the older woman standing directly in front of her, just a tad closer than was socially acceptable._

_ Fleur grimaced. _

_T__hen, almost as inaudibly as Hermione had spoken previously, the Veela murmured, _ _"Mais non...it is unlikely. You are..." Fleur struggled with the words, as she continued. "You are...so much __more__..." _

She was cut-off, unexpectedly.

Fleur was never able to finish her thought that day, being interrupted by a boisterous toast offered from Mrs. Weasley in Ron and Hermione's honor. As time passed, they never finished that conversation, at all. As she settled into her day-to-day life with Ron, Hermione would often flit back to that moment, and wonder what the second half of Fleur's sentence would have been. As three years passed, the two grew more awkward around the other, despite being forced into seeing each other socially more often given their Weasley husband connection. Conversation became more forced, as they didn't quite know how to navigate the other in the roles they were currently playing as wives.

However, fate has a funny way of changing things in the blink of an eye, sometimes.

Almost two years ago, Hermione finally threw up her hands, in utter frustration, and resigned her Section Chief title at the Ministry. She realized with the Minster's unexpected veto of Proposition 18927, a bill she had slaved over for six months, that even the brightest mind of the time was not enough to overcome the hopeless monolith that was the archaic Ministry of Magic. It was Hermione Granger Weasley's last proverbial straw.

At roughly the same time, down the block, Fleur Delacour Weasley quit her cursebreaker job at Gringott's, despite her immeasurable skill for the profession, when she was passed over for a deserved promotion in favor of a less qualified Goblin. She realized she would never be given a fair evaluation or make forward progress in that organization without being an actual Goblin, herself.

And so, Minerva McGonnigal had a bounty of unexpected riches before her: two of the most gifted talents in the wizarding world were suddenly and incredibly _unemployed!_

She moved with the speed of a professional talent scout, and made the two women offers they could not refuse, unbenowst to the other. Minerva's skilled negotiation skills coupled with firm encouragement tactics regarding early retirement of two of her current staff members, resulted in the academic "one-two knockout punch" resulting in Hogwarts acquiring an alumnus of Beaubaton's Acadmey as their new Potions professor, and a member of the Golden Trio as their new Transfiguation professor.

The news went viral. Normally, academic appointments don't garner front page headlines in The Daily Prophet. However, it wasn't every day that a school acquired not one, but _two_, such famous persons who both happened to be Order of Merlin: First Class recipients for their distinguished actions during the last wizarding war. It didn't hurt that they were both young, famous, and frankly, easy on the eyes.

The story headlining the Prophet was exactly the vehicle leading to the discovery by the other of their simultaneous hire. Hermione Granger Weasley and Fleur Delacour Weasley learned they would soon be thrust together as colleagues on a daily basis by_ reading it on the front page of the evening edition of the paper_... just like everyone else did, that night!

At exactly at the same time, in each of their respective households, the two witches let out an expletive that named a bodily function: one in the King's English, and the other in an emphatic French.

_"Oh, shit..."_

_"Merde!..."_

Fate has a funny way, indeed.

**TBC.**


	3. Secrets & (White) Lies

**Tell Me Your Secrets**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming prn. And yes, in this chapter, I went to the most cliched device in all of fan fiction:_ the tickle fight!_ Yep. I went there. Proudly. And this chapter is SO atypical for me: the slow burn.

We're getting there...I promise.

**Chapter 3. Secrets &amp; (White) Lies.**

Ironically, Hermione never analyzed her present situation, in much detail.

The woman who had become famous for her meticulous study of every situation and its every corollary possible outcome, opted instead to remain oblivious in her own personal mess.

Thus, the irony.

However, Hermione wasn't the smartest witch of her era without cause. Her brilliant mind sought to protect her fragile soul without her own self even realizing it. Her mind, by avoiding the need to over-anaylize, just this once, was protecting Hermione Jean Granger's one weakness:

Her heart.

Because, that quiet and annoying voice from the pit of her subconscious reasoned, to no one in particular, if one were to analyze it, this...thing...between the two admired junior faculty, and actually invite the scrutiny? Well, it might ruin everything. Hermione feared, subconsciously, that too much scrutiny might scare off the mercurial and frequently skittish blonde goddess to whom she had grown so ...

Grown so..._what?_

Fond?

Enamored?

Hermione screwed up her features into something resembling an abused prune. There was no good word to encapsulate what Fleur had become to her over the fast few months. Not a single word, anyway.

_Fleur..._Hermione mused silently, to herself.

All the former Gryffindor knew is that her heart would beat, _just a tiny bit faster_, when Fleur arrived at her table with a private grin and a wink meant just for her; all she knew is that her eyes would look for her, everywhere, to seek her out; and she could feel her internal thermostat rise, just a little when Fleur Delacour would choose to tell her something absolutely routine in a conspiratorial and totally unnecessary whisper that would require the French witch to step _just a little bit_ too close, into her personal space.

Thinking of her friend caused a nearly drunken expression to take over her face; a dreamy smile followed. Hermione tapped her fingers on her lesson plan she had been struggling over; the rarely distractible academic was struggling to think about the finer points of Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration instead of sinewy muscles that wove delicately into sculpted shoulders, which were framed by beautiful golden hair cascading down them...

Hermione shook her head with a start.

_Since when have I started lusting after women like a fourteen year old boy?_ She thought disgustedly to herself. Attempting to clear her mind, actually shaking it out in the corner of the library she had holed up in, she sighed, resigned.

_Truthfully, Granger, you don't lust after women. You lust after woman. Er...A woman, that is. _One_ woman._

_One perfect woman..._

She put her head down on her parchment, feeling rather depressed. Despite all her success in life, her many storied accomplishments as a girl with Ron and Harry, and her later solo professional prowess as a grown-up, the _one thing_ that terrified her was anything to do with the affairs of the heart. She had gone on to slay dragons in her adult life, both figurative and literal, during her short career at the Ministry; but ask her to face the simple fact she had a crush?

Impossible.

Despite the fact everyone seemed to want a piece of the Golden Girl, to this day, the Golden Girl herself never truly accepted that fact. She could never understand why people were so damn interested in her all the time! Forget strangers, even...she could never accept that someone close to her could like_ her,_ for her; and not what she could offer them in her vast skill set. Worse, when it came to the prospect of mutual love and desire, considering that with anyone, was foreign.

And Fleur?

Considering something like that, between them? The dazzling Beauxbaton and the Hogwarts alum? In considering if it were even possible, the mere thought process would reduced Hermione to feeling like the awkward and bossy 1st year student all over again. The very one with the frightening overbite and zero friends she had evolved from long ago, when contemplating if Fleur could ever consider... more, between the two. If she were to contemplate, that is.

Contemplate if Fleur _meant anything, _ in her casual touches... the ones that would set Hermione's skin on fire.

Contemplate if her dark gaze that held her own brown eyes just a wee bit too long, during their Friday night escapades...if it meant anything other than the fact she was imbibed, or her usual French flirtatious self. Contemplate if it was just exuding normal Veela sex appeal.

_Was it nothing more than that? _Hermione mused.

The brightest witch of her era then openly scoffed at herself, realizing how _tragic_ she was truly becoming in this moment, secluded away in the library. Sequestered away, like the recluse she could often be, off in fantasy land...dreaming of someone clearly out of her league.

_Why would she want me?_ Hermione thought miserably. _She could have anyone she wanted...someone perfect, like her! Someone...better. No physical flaws, no blemishes, no frizzed-out hair, someone not so...blunt. And awkward. Blunt AND awkward. _

It was in this exact moment of her self-flagellation that she felt the skin crawl and prickle off her bones with a familiar touch, yet unexpected and certainly out of context. Delicate fingers trailed up her shoulder, coming to a stop at the juncture of the base of her neck, landing with a final squeeze, and resting there.

Familiar...

Hermione's head whirled around, the speed of the motion causing her neck to snap, loudly.

"Fleu.._.Fleur_?" She gasped, startled from her pathetic musings.

The light giggle that filled the air combined with the delighted smile confirmed the identity of the owner of the graceful digits. Fleur's Cerulean blue eyes were leveled mischievously, directly on her, and unwavering in their stare.

"_Of course!_ C'est moi! Who else are you expecting for a little_ rendez-vous_ in ze library, ozzer zan your _Meuf?"_

Fleur's fingertips began to move again, trailing light motions across the exposed parts of Hermione's neck. She seemed to smirk when she saw the goosebumps rise on the brunette's skin, as though enjoying her discomfort.

Hermione gasped, quietly.

Fleur grinned, again. "My...you're _very jumpy_ today, Professor Granger..."

Hermione frowned at the amused look her friend was giving her, clearly at her expense. Hermione arched her eyebrows.

"_Jumpy?" _She snorted, indignantly. "Jumpy, per se...only when _startled_ by your appearance, Professor Delacour... in an actual place of _higher learning_!" Hermione's eyes twinkled. "It seems so_ out of context,_ you know..."

Fleur's eyes widened, when the backhanded explanation registered. Then, they narrowed.

"_Zat's it!"_ Fleur huffed. "It'z **war!**" She bellowed, with equal mock indignation.

Conjuring the speed of a Cheetah, The former Triwizard Champion lept from her chair, pouncing, and fully tackling the startled younger witch before she could react. Hermione fell, uncermoniously, out of her chair when tackled by Fleur; she landing sideways on to the floor in a heap.

With Fleur on top, naturally.

"_Ooof_!" Hermione groaned.

The blonde however, demonstrated no mercy. She lunged over her, quickly moving to grip the brunette's sides. Hermione's eyes widened with realization, and she quickly scrambled to protect her flanks.

**"No!"** She gasped, already breathless. "_You wouldn't_!" Hermione squealed, desperately.

"Oh, _wouldn't I?_" Drawled Fleur, straddling the startled witch underneath her. The new Potions professor grinned a simultaneously evil and delighted grin, as her long and elegant fingers, deceptive in their strength and agility, bore down quickly onto the hapless Transfiguration professor. Simultaneously, Fleur's toned thighs locked Hermione immobile. Hermione, anticipating what was coming, flailed her arms, in a futile attempt to block oncoming assault of Fleur's fingers.

It was to no avail.

"No! Ha..Ha..HEE!" Gasped Hermione, as she writhed on the carpeted floor of the library. "**STOP!** Hee hee...Gods, Fleur, stop! Quit! You bloody...FRENCH person! Hee _hee_ hee!" Tears were streaming down her face, as pearls of tormented laughter erupted from the younger witch, thrashing left and right in a feeble attempt to get away from Fleur's determined attack.

"_Surrender!_ Admit defeat, 'ermione Granger!"

"**Never!**" Gasped Hermione, squirming, right before Fleur attacked her with another round of tickling.

Hermione's papers went flying everywhere, as she kicked the leg of the table with her foot attempting to escape. Fleur only gripped her tighter, laughing darkly.

"Give up?" Fleur huffed, leaning over the younger witch while her onslaught of merciless tickling continued. "_Rendre!_ Surrender to me, now, _ma petite chou_..."

Fleur's voice trailed off.

Still protecting herself, Hermione heard the Veela exhale above her. Then Hermione felt her, more so than actually hearing or seeing her, as she leaned over, moving deliberately closer to her captive prey. Fleur whispered in a deliberately low voice, directly into Hermione's ear:

"_Surrender,_ 'ermione..." Fleur whispered, in that low, breathy voice. It was almost unrecognizable to Hermione. "_Give in_ ...to me."

Hermione felt a rush of heat swell between her legs from Fleur's breathy statement. The nervous younger woman could feel the elder's dark gaze bearing down on her as they lay on the floor, next to Hermione's innocent capsized chair. Fleur's tickling pace had slowed to a stop, but her hands remained firm on Hermione's flanks, gripping them firmly.

They stared at each other, gaze unwavering, limbs and bodies in a tangled mess, until a small voice was heard next to them, clearing their throat.

"Ah-hem!"

Hermione's eyes shot up to the sound. Her eyes widened, with embarrassment, as she recognized the owner of the voice in her current upside down vantage point.

"**Oh!** Irma...Irma Pince!" Hermione said, startled. She cleared her throat, attepting to free herself from Fleur's grip, which Fleur seemingly would have none of, and merely gripping her tighter while emitting a low growl.

Hermione attempted to diffuse the situation, giving Fleur a pointed look.

Hermione blushed and grinned. "Madame Librarian...I'm sorry. So sorry! Er...got a bit carried away with lesson plans, you know..."

Hermione stopped talking as a muffled giggles filled the room. She glanced around the room with horror, realizing that multiple _other_ sets of eyes were also on them, as well, and not just the steely gaze of Madame Pince alone.

The terse librarian pinched her nose as though stopping a nosebleed.

_"Professor Granger,_" She began deliberately. "In seven years..._seven_ years!" She shook her head with disgust, it seemed. "In seven _whole_ years of your... what would one call it...hmmm. Your _babysitting._.. of Potter and Weasley, here, in my library..."

Laughter openly erupted at that point. There was an audience, much to Hermione's dismay.

The stern librarian continued. "...and _not once_ did I find cause to eject you, despite their _multiple_ idiotic highjinks..."

The room tittered nervously, again, with laughter from the rapidly expanding crowd.

"And yet, in your _first four months_ of jointing the faculty of this establishment of higher learning, I have cause to kick you out...**now?**" She arched her eyebrows, folding her arms, and looking down on the two indisposed female professors.

Hermione and Fleur began to sheepishly gather up the Transfiguration class items. "Sorry, Irma." Hermione murmured, quietly. She shot Fleur a semi-evil glare, which only caused the Frenchwoman to grin.

The librarian pointed, rather sternly, towards the exit door. Hermione was in such as rush, she failed to notice Madam Pince trying hard to smother the grin threatening to erupt on her face.

"OUT, Professor Granger! Now, please, and take your ...little French _sidekick_ with you!"

As the two slunk out, attempting not to giggle, or bring further attention to themselves, Fleur's head shot up defiantly at the parting comment. She replied back.

"Excusez-moi, Madam Pince! 'ow do you know zat _she_," Fleur pointed at her friend, "Iz not... ze sidekick?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. More laughter was heard.

Irma Pince gasped, gesturing broadly. "Because this is the _library,_ Professor Delacour!" Looking at the French transplant, she said in feigned annoyance, "The library! This is the house that_ Hermione_ built!"

She, rather theatrically shooed them out, and locked the door behind them for good measure before ushering the underage students back to work with her patented threatening glare. As she re-opened the door a few moments later, allowing enough time for the two troublemakers to exit, the stoic librarian murmured quietly to herself.

"Hermione Granger...kicked out of my library! Well!" She grinned, to herself. "... _About bloody time_!"

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

They walked, side by side, down the long corridor in reflective silence. After a moment, Hermione finally broke the comfortable quiet.

Chuckling, she admitted to her friend, "You know...Irma was telling the truth." Hermione smiled. "That_ was_ the first time I was ever kicked out of...how do you say? La bibliothèque?"

They both grinned, sharing an easy laughter.

Fleur's gaze was down, looking at the ground, "Il y a une première fois pour tout, _n'est-ce pas_? For me, as well, 'ermione. That was my first time, too." She didn't meet Hermione's brown eyes nestled within a furrowed brow.

Hermione made a quick assessment, reassuring her friend. "That doesn't surprise me, actually."

Fleur's head shot up, looking at the woman next to her, gaging her level of seriousness. After a moment, she asked quietly, "Really?"

"Yes! Really, Fleur... I've always thought of you as a serious student. You struck me as very...academic, actually, when you were here for your exchange year during the Triwizard Tournament."

Fleur was quiet.

"Promise. I'm serious." Hermione reassured her, with a gentle smile.

She didn't know what to make of Fleur's strange expression, which immediately preceded the blonde launching herself against the younger witch. The force of her sudden embrace propelled Hermione backwards into the far wall of the corridor, as Fleur pressed herself against her startled friend.

As she wrapped her arms around Hermione, to embrace her, she whispered, "_Zank you_, 'ermione."

"Um...you're welcome?" Hermione said, awkwardly, as she struggled with what to do with her arms, exactly, as the French witch wrapped herself tightly around her. She finally settled with placing them on Fleur's waist, hoping Fleur didn't notice her suddenly sweaty palms. "It's not that great of an insight, actually. It's fairly obvious what a good student you were."

Hermione felt her face flush, as the tip of Fleur's nose nuzzled into Hermione's neck. She whispered softly into Hermione's ear, "Really? Zen why are you ze _only one_ who noticed, 'ermione?"

Hermione ran her hands up and down Fleur's back in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture, and not a creepy one. "I find that hard to believe."

The younger woman cleared her throat, nervously. She felt her face flush further, despite their solitude in the hallway. Hermione frowned. _Perhaps the solitude was the reason for my flushing_, she mused, and the prospect of no one watching them stand inappropriately close to one another.

Yet neither moved to change that closeness, choosing instead to stay in one another's embrace.

Hermione closed her eyes, and swallowed, hard, as she felt Fleur's warm breath against her ear. "Believe it. You are the _only one_, ma belle..."

Fleur's voice was low, and dangerous.

"May...Maybe they were so distracted by your gorgeousness, Fleur...?" Hermione speculated, weakly.

The beautiful woman pulled away from Hermione, slightly, and gently traced her jawline, staring intently at her as she did so. Hermione could barely force herself to regard the blue eyes that had become so darkly intense in the past few moments.

Fleur was so devastatingly beautiful, this close up; it literally took Hermione's breath away.

There was a small part of her subconsciousness that suggested to Hermione that _friends_ don't stand this close to one another; _friends_ don't stare the way the two of them were currently doing; and finally, _friends_ don't feel the butterflies in their stomach over the mere touch of the other...

...but she quickly pushed those thoughts away.

"You zink me _gorgeous_, 'ermione?" Fleur asked, low and deadly.

Hermione swallowed. Instead of answering, she quickly put on her best Griffyndor face, attempting what she hoped was a casual smile. Deflecting she answered, "Well, perhaps some people were distracted, that's all I'm saying. I wasn't...I see more than the surface of things, I guess." She cleared her throat, nervously. "Well...it's almost time for us to make rounds, right, brainiac?"

Fleur said nothing, instead just continuing to stare down at her, intently.

Hermione felt increasingly uncomfortable, as the area between her legs began to tingle under the Beauxbaton's unwavering gaze.

Hermione added, nervously, "..._Right_, Fleur?"

It was as though Hermione's final words snapped Fleur out of a spell, causing her to react. She replaced her predatory gaze with a more neutral one. Fleur smiled her typical dazzling smile at the shorter witch.

"Bien sur, of course...we're late, actually!"

Professor Delacour casually slid her hand from the side of Hermione's face that she had been holding, and snaked it downwards, deliberately. She wrapped it through the shorter witches' arm, while turning them forward, to continue their walk down the hallway; all as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Hermione exhaled. _ She's so bloody smooth..._

As they reached Hermione's quarters, the two made arrangements to meet in ten minutes time for their Professors' patrol duty. It was as though the highly inappropriate past few hours had never occurred.

Hermione frowned. As Fleur turned to leave, Hermione's voice stopped her.

"Fleur?"

"Yes, ma belle?" She responded, cocking her head.

"Fleur...um." Hermione paused. "_Out of curiosity_...how did you know I was in the library, exactly?"

Fleur chucked, eyes darkening.

The stoic witch quickly steeled her features back in to that of the perfect, oh-so-neutral mask she always wore. Her features were calm, but the fire in her eyes belied the mask, however. Flashing a look at the younger witch that was deadly serious and recalled their previous embrace earlier, she answered the question.

"Don't you realize? I _always_ know where you are, 'ermione...always."

Then Fleur turned to go, without further explanation, leaving Hermione alone with a jumbled mess of emotions, sputtering to herself, mentally. Hermione attempting to decipher the cryptic statement provided to her, in the frustrating manner with which Fleur always answered.

**TBC!**

Reviews = Love. [Or like. Or in some instance, _disgust._ Your call.] ;)


	4. You Can't Handle The Truth

**Tell Me Your Secrets.**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming prn.

**A/N**: Okay, I used another trite Fanfic literary device...see if you can find it. Bwhah ha! Also, a shout out to EmilyFieldsFan...you'll catch it. Thanks to all who have reviewed and PM'ed. Based on past comments, I'm actually telling you where you are in the story timeline, these days...

**Chapter 4: You Can't Handle The Truth.**

_Flashback: 2 weeks Prior To The Start Of The Academic Year..._

Hermione thought about it, once, and once only.

Her_ title._

She decided, in returning to Hogwarts, where it all began for her, it was time to get a fresh start from an old perspective. Thus, she dropped the "Weasley" from her name, opting instead, to use "Professor Hermione Granger" as her nomenclature, insisting many people did such things - using a maiden name for their academic title.

She didn't hear the end of it, from her husband.

"It's as though your_ ashamed_ of us, 'Mione!" Ron said, clearly upset.

Ron was not dumb, not exactly; being "not intelligent" is not the same as being dumb. He had plenty of common sense, and he had proven himself as a brave and capable Auror. Granted, he wasn't in Harry's league, or even his close to his own wife's league, but he held his own. And at this moment, his common sense was eating at him, telling him something stunk about this whole situation.

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Ron, this is _not_ up for discussion. You don't own me, or what I call myself, professionally!"

He groaned. "Bloody hell, 'Mione..." He gritted his teeth.

She rolled her eyes. "And if it were up to me, you wouldn't be entitled to calling me anything in our private life, either! How many times do I have to tell you, I _hate_ that nickname?"

"What...'Mione? I've always called you that!"

It was her turn to grit her teeth. "I'm _aware_ of that, Ron..." She said, cooly. "Hence, my comment."

As she finished packing her beaded bag, the one with the extendable charm, he looked at her for the first time, in a long time. Looked at her through the lens of an adult. Ron wondered if he ever really knew his wife, at all.

She gave him a strained smile, kissed him on the cheek, as she headed towards the floo. "I'll owl when I get settled, okay? Have Harry and Gin keep you company, Ron; you're no good if you're alone too long." She gave him a sad smile. "You get a bit, well...surley."

"Never!" He said.

She gave him a reproachful look.

"Oh, okay. Sometimes, then!" He returned her smile. "But its usually because I'm hungry, or something."

"Goodbye, Ron."

"Goodbye, 'Mio..._Hermione_." He said, correcting himself.

"Thank you, Ron." She said quietly. "Goodbye. Take care of yourself, okay?"

And then she was gone.

**XOXOXOXO**

Across the burrow, an equally dismissive, albeit wildly different in nature, send-off occurred in Fleur Delacour Weasley's home.

Bill had brought home a "bird," the night prior, for Fleur and he to share in their bed; it was becoming more and more common of late. Bill was no fool. He realized that, despite Fleur's complicit participation in their sex life, she was clearly just "going through the motions."

They talked about it, because that's what they did; above all else, Bill and Fleur were friends.

Fleur admitted her prolicivites leaned more towards that of the female persuasion. Bill recovered quickly, and found a middle ground. As long as he could participate, on some level, he was totally fine with that. Thus, the parade of women in and out of their bedroom. He always felt a little bad for oblivitating their memory afterwards; but he justified it to himself. Given their positions at Gringotts, they couldn't have a slew of former disgruntled lovers parading their issues in a conservative institution such as Gringotts, should they get a bee in their bonnet.

There was no question in his mind, either, that eventually _some woman_ would develop a bee in their bonnet, either. _Hell hath no fury_...and Fleur was good at what she did, especially once Bill honed in on her "type."

He himself preferred blondes, obviously; not so much with his wife.

While he realized quickly that any female was better for Fleur than a male, he would elicit the best response with one specific type. Fleur was always most passionate with brunettes - light brunettes. No redheads, no blondes, no black haired ladies for her; light brown hair was her turn on. Also, dark brown eyes; and they absolutely could not be taller than she. Their complexion could be tan, but she preferred them on the paler side.

Above all else, Fleur's biggest turn off was if the lights were on, but no one was home. Meaning, she preferred her conquests not to be...well, stupid.

Bill didn't mind, one way or another, as long as they had nice tits. It was really irrelevant to him, in fact. Fat or thin, tall or short, pink hair or grey hair...he could care less. As long as he could see his wife actually engaged, for a change, in bedroom activities, it was all fine by him.

The night before Fleur was to leave for Hogwarts, after they had sent their lady_ du jour_ on her way, the two shared a quiet fag together on their balcony. Fleur was deciding on what exactly to pack, and talking to herself, as she made out list after list of items to bring.

"How long, Fleur?" Bill asked, quietly, exhaling their shared smoke.

Fleur looked at him, quizzically. "Excusez-moi, William? 'ow long..._what_?"

He looked at her pointedly. "How long, exactly, do you think that you have been... _in love_ with my younger brother's wife?"

There was no malice in his voice, just a genuine curiosity. He surmised he hit the nail on the head when he saw her eye widen with shock. Fleur straightened up, adjusting the blue scarf around her neck. Her hands shook, slightly.

"I...I don't know what -"

He cut her off. "Fleur, don't bother denying it. You and I have been best friends for a long time, now! You can't fool me, Frenchy." He stubbed out the finished deathstick, having finished it.

She gazed at the ashtray, not meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry, William."

"Don't be sorry, Fleur. It is what it is. Just...how long?"

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Just curious, I guess..."

Fleur finally looked up, and gave him a sad smile. "You know what zey say about curiosity, don't you?"

"I do. Indulge me, anyway. How long, Fleur?"

"Since..." She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. Flashes of memories of the times in her life she had interacted with Hermione paraded through her mind. Shell Cottage. The Beauxbaton arrival at Hogwarts. The Yule Ball. Christmas, last year. Their wedding, and Hermione's red dress. The time she loaned her a cardigan. The time they shared a shot downstairs, instead of cleaning up with Molly. She forced herself to stop.

Her eyes were far away, and Bill suspected he was not going to like the answer.

She sighed, again. "..._since as long as I can remember_, William." She said, quietly. Taking a long breath, she continued. "It iz my nature. Ze Veela wants what it wants...regardless if my human side wants to love you, and you alone."

He chuckled, sadly. "Well, it certainly would have been more convenient, that's for sure, given that we're already married." They both laughed.

Fleur grimaced. Seeing what was coming, Bill quickly crossed the room, scooping up his wife into a deep embrace when the beautiful witch began to cry, suddenly. He rubbed her back, and murmured reassurances that only made her cry, harder.

She pounded on his chest. "_You see?_ Zis is what I mean!" She said, angrily. "Here you are, trying to comfort **me,** over ze fact zat ze person I'm hopelessly in love wiz, zat is NOT you, will never love me in zat way! Damn it, William, why do you have to be so perfect?" She sobbed.

They both laughed at the irony of it all.

"My perfection...it's a curse." He said gently, causing Fleur to giggle. He hugged her again, tears threatening to fall in his own eyes, as he looked out the window of their room, thinking. He stroked Fleur's beautiful, soft hair, and reassured her.

His eyes returned to his beautiful wife.

"Fleur Isabelle Delacour Weasley...the one thing I know about you is this: you are the most determined, and underestimated, person that I know! If _you_ would just stop underestimating_ yourself_ along with everyone else, the sky would be the limit for you...really."

They sat in comfortable silence.

"Fleur..." He said gently, "We need to separate, and divorce."

"William! No, that's not-"

He held her face gently, in his hands. He forced her to look up at him. "We've had a good run, really we have. But how can you know what you want, or get what you want...if I'm in your way?"

Tears fell from her eyes, as she looked down.

"Worse," he continued, in his steady voice, "you'll _never_ get what you want if YOU are in your own way, Fleur."

She looked at him, confused.

He sighed. "Maybe the Veela is right, Fleur, have you ever considered that?" He asked.

"No! I am not 'aving zis discussion, William, zis is stupid! I'm married to you!"

He cut her off, firmly. "No, Fleur, it's _not_ stupid. It's the e_xact opposite_ of stupid, actually." He nodded, and hugged her, tightly. "Look, Delacour... I love you too much to let you not find your happiness. Maybe Granger is straight, maybe she isn't. But I do know this, kid...you'll never score, if you never pick up that broom and step onto the pitch, ay? That's a fact."

Fleur just cried, quietly, in his arms.

"So, here's how its going down, Fleur..." He said, firmly. "This teaching position...well, its the rare opportunity for a second chance. Those don't come along, that often. It's your fresh start."

He patted her.

"We don't have to tell anyone, if you don't want to, babe, for awhile. But you go into Hogwarts a free woman, even if its not in the legal sense, yet. You enter that Castle as Professor Fleur Delacour. Not Mrs. Fleur Delacour Weasley. And you give it all you've got, okay?"

She pulled away, and looked at him with tears still in her eyes.

"You are ze best person I've ever known, William Weasley...zis is why I wish I didn't just love you, zat I was actually IN love, wiz you..."

"Yeah. I guess. It wasn't meant to be... I've always known that, Fleur. I knew, and yet I married you anyway. Kinda selfish of me, I guess, in the end."

She looked at him, confused, as he pulled away from her and began to shuffle around their flat, tidying up. As he picked up the reminants of the Daily Prophet and the day old copy of Le Monde, Fleur was lost in thought. She said nothing, for a long time, as she packed her bags, stacking her robes neatly into her expensive and color coded trunks...a gift from her mother, Apollene, who had been delighted with her prestigious appointment, and her new career trajectory in general.

Her bags packed, she slid her wand inside her traveling robes. Clearing her throat, she looked at her soon to be ex-husband.

"I'm, em...finished, William. It's time for me to go."

He nodded, continuing to pick up the living room, not looking at her.

"Goodbye, Fleur."

"Au revoir."

And she was gone.

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

_Flashback: 9 Days Prior To The Start of the Academic Year_

Minerva McGonnigall might have been a Goblin in a former life.

Nothing, save nothing, escaped her notice. Her attention to detail, especially ones of the tedious variety, and keen powers of observation might have made her an ideal banker in a different life. Those characteristics had served her well in her role as a Transfiguration professor, where the smallest detail on the flick of the wand, could make your spell go horribly awry.

As the Headmistress of Hogwarts, those skills immediately discerned something was not quite right with her two new additions to the staff, in regards to their homelife. All of the administrative paperwork turned in by the new Potions teacher and the new Transfiguration teacher were missing something important:

Their legal surnames.

"That's interesting." She said to herself.

"What's interesting, my dear Minerva?" Albus asked, peering down from his portrait.

"Look at this!" She said, holding up their tax forms filled out the day prior. "This is an actual _legal_ document, Albus! Not the Hogwarts directory, or something internal. This is a legal document!"

"Yes." He agreed, patiently.

"They filled it out...Fleur Isabelle Delacour, and Hermione Jean Granger, just yesterday, Albus!"

"...And?"

"Well, technically, those are not their legal names, I thought. They had assumed married names at one point...you were there, Albus!"

He smiled. "Yes, but interestingly...and this is the advantage of you hanging up Kingsley's portrait here as well..." He gestured to his left, towards the frame hanging next to his.

"Minerva." The former Minister of Magic greeted her, with a fond smile, joining in.

"Kingsley." She nodded in return.

"It would appear, my dear headmistress, according to the Good Minister, here...that your two brilliant faculity acquisitions never _actually_ took a married name, legally, it would appear. They just used them, socially, as it turns out. The Ministry never received a document from either to formally change their last names."

"Oh." Minerva said, quietly. "I'm certainly not sexist. Nothing says witches have to take on their husbands names, these days. But...well, now! Makes it sort of seem rather doomed from the start, though, doesn't it?"

Albus chuckled. "Oh, I think you and I both know those unions were going to be rather ill-fated, regardless...irrespective of what they called themselves, don't you?"

"Indeed!" Kingsley weighed in.

The headmistress scowled. "You two are like a bunch of gossipy old women, I dare say! Don't you have something better to do?"

"No." They answered in unison, and both laughed.

Minerva covered both portraits, to their great protest, and sat in her favorite chair. Nursing a cup of chamomile tea, she pushed away the nagging concern she had, wondering what other surprises her new new hires would have in store for her, in this coming year...

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

"**Damn it,** Fleur...harder!" Hermione groaned. "_Fuck me,_ harder, you fucking bitch!"

Sweat was pouring off the the brow of both women, and a stale smell of sex reeked in their shared quarters. The curtains were drawn and the evening light left only enough light to see the glistening on the brow of the beautiful Veela, straining over the younger woman.

Their hair was messy, robes tossed carelessly on the floor, and their sheets were in a wad, almost completely pulled off the mattress. Stains littered the mattress, as a result, comprised of various fluids: cum, sweat, wine, and in some areas, spots of blood, from both witches...

Clearly, they had been going at this a while.

"_Merlin!_...'ow can you still be so _fucking wet_ for me, Mia?" Growled Fleur, as she ran her fingers through the younger's abused red folds, between her legs.

Hermione shuddered with her deliberate touch, both from her own arousal as well as her earned soreness.

"Careful, that's a little tender, down there..."

"Iz it, now? Why is zat?" Fleur growled, in a low voice, nuzzling into Hermione neck. The brunette let out a soft moan, causing the blonde's nipples to further tighten. Fleur kept up her deliberate long stroking, with her elegant fingers. "Hmmm? Why iz zat?" She teased.

Hermione spread her legs, wider, and opened herself to the French witch. Hermione's pelvis began to buck from the skilled touch.

"_Ohhh!_" She gasped, as Fleur made a deliberate thrust against her clit. "I...oh Gods, Fleur, you feel so damn good! I... I would guess, Bae, it's because you had your_ entire fist_ in it...maybe ten minutes ago?"

Fleur laughed, darkly.

"Peut-etre...but... I zink I want to visit it, again, ma belle..."

She rubbed Hermione's entrance demandingly, swirling her pooled arousal with the pads of her fingers. Hermione groaned, arching and keening forward to meet her touch. "**Oh! ** _Fleur._.."

"Hmmm?"

_"Fleur._.."

"Yes, Mia?"

Hermione's naked body arched closer. "Fleur!"

The French witch said nothing, merely speeding up her deliberate strokes through her folds, _teasing_ her. With her other hand, Fleur reached upwards, and gripped Hermione's hair tightly, pulling her head backwards.

"FLEUR!" Hermione was shouting, now. Fleur heard pounding, along with Hermione calling out her name.

With a start, Fleur jarred awake.

"Mon Dieu!" The Potions teacher gasped, realizing she had...dozed off.

Not only had she fallen asleep in her office chair, she realized, but she was now late for her first meeting with the Headmistress! _Late_...and recovering from a wildly inappropriate _sex dream_ featuring the other new Hogwarts hire, and her very straight friend, Professor Granger!

The very same person who was currently pounding on her door, to pick her up, as they had tentatively agreed to do, prior.

"Fleur! Are you in there?

"Merde!" Declared Fleur, under her breath.

"Hello?" Hermione kept banging. "It's Hermione! We're going to be la-**oh**!"

Hermione caught her voice in her throat, as Fleur whipped open the door, eyes wild. The Frenchwoman looked feral, hungry; Hermione couldn't recall a time she had seen Fleur appear so...unedited.

"Fleur? Are you okay?"

The French witch chuckled. "Not really, 'ermione..." She licked her lips, giving the younger woman a once over. "Can you give me 5 minutes? If you don't want to be late...uh, head up, zen...wizout me."

Fleur turned, and raced into her bathroom, attempting to get herself into some semblance of presentable.

Hermione stepped into Fleur's room, tentatively.

"No, um...that's okay. I'll wait for you." Hermione answered, looking around. As she took in Fleur's quarters, and the tasteful way she had already put it together, she felt oddly unsettled.

Fleur poked her head out of the bathroom, soap on her face, her face brightened by Hermione's concession.

"Fantistique!" Fleur gushed, and their eyes met. Looking at the beautiful woman, gorgeous wearing only soap on her face, without a drop of make-up, Hermione's stomach did a somersault. The younger witch offered the older witch a tentative smile.

"I'll always wait for you, Fleur. Just...hurry."

"Okay."

**TBC.**


	5. Liar, Liar

**Tell Me Your Secrets**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...

**Chapter 5. Liar Liar.**

The advantages of being put in such an isolating environment as Hogwarts is that there were_ minimal distractions_ from the outside world.

It was such a relief for both women.

It allowed Fleur, for the first time, to think of her own aspirations, _ without_ the influence of her overbearing family, their influence, and their legacy to consider. For Hermione, it gave the introvert a chance to reflect, peacefully, without the world's enormous expectations on her. More importantly, it silenced the cacophony of the Weasley's loud voices (or, _Mrs. Weasley's _voice, to be specific) and their laments about 'expanding the dynasty'.

Without their external obligations, families, and (oh yes...that) their husbands, they took immediately to each other like a fish to water.

I surprised them, initially, because Fleur and Hermione were both astonished that their was someone else they could spend peaceful reflection with...they hadn't ever really had that, before. They could spend long bouts of shared and utter silence together, without the need to fill it. They had been surrounded by so much noise, for lack of a better word, in the outside world; that the solitude that Hogwarts provided them was ... therapeutic. And it was astonishing to both that they could be in each others' company and still find that peace.

It allowed them to observe the other, without distraction.

It was impossible to miss the fact they had become inseparable immediately, right after their very first faculty meeting with Headmistress McGonnigall prior to the start of school. That was when Hermione first realized that Fleur wasn't quite as "put together" as she had originally imagined her to be; Fleur caused them to be 25 minutes late to that day, to their first meeting. Surprisingly, the normally task-minded former Auror didn't mind; making allowance for Fleur seem infinitely easier than it was for, say, Ron, or Harry.

It was rather charming to Hermione, how Fleur was almost _clumsy_ around Hermione; which was so out of character for her. Certanly, no one who knew of Fleur would ever associate that adjective with her. It was almost their own private joke. It put the younger witch at ease, realizing that the blonde wasn't the flawless Goddess she always imagined her to be-inexplicably, and _just_ around Hermione.

She liked it.

Additionally, they both _hated_ the attention they received when the students finally arrived, to begin the school term. It was hard to have a school without students, of course, but it brought a whole new level of curiosity and fascination aimed at the two new Hogwarts celebrities, which they despised. It simply drove them closer together. Boys, girls, parents...even some of the facility gawked at the two new additions, _all_ the time. While not as bad as when they lived in the wizarding world at large in London, a world not bound by the school code and Minerva McGonnigall's stern eye, it was still like being in a gilded fishbowl, nonetheless.

It didn't take the two clever women long to devise secret hideouts, ones that would be discovered by the history-obsessed Hermione and subsequently warded off by Fleur with her extensive curse-breaking and curse-making skills. Fleur swore her to secrecy, as some of the spells were ones she had invented on her own; ones that she would prefer the Goblins wouldn't decide to 'claim ownership of', later.

That's how they found some privacy, One sunny October afternoon, as they sat on a hill of clover, completely hidden away from the prying eyes of the Hogwarts masses. Feeling content, Finally, Hermione revealed one of her own proprietary secrets to her new bestie. Fleur sat, in rapt attention, as the bruniette unveiled her recently discovered ability to "double" time - she could create a vortex, granted, only a for short period; but a vortex in which one hour would only cost them 30 minutes in "the real world."

It allowed them the luxury of_ time._

"Mon Dieu...you do realize, my dear 'ermione, what an _amazing discovery_ zis is?"

"I do." She grimaced. "And I know the potential for abuse, of what I've found, Fleur. So this secret discovery will remain that...a secret."

Fleur thought on that for a moment, then nodded solemnly, realizing how real the potential for abuse of Hermione's discovery could be, by unscrupulous wizards and their greed...they lived through it, after all.

"Mmm...oui. 'ave you told anyone...shown anyone...?"

"No, Fleur...just you."

The blond felt her cheeks flush and her heart soared, a little bit in that moment. The Veela was itching to get out, but she pushed it down. Instead, she chocked out a rather inelegant, "Oh? Really? Why iz zat?"

Hermione let out a rather weary laugh. "Well, I guess, until this moment, the idea of being forced to spend extra time, with anyone I knew, on some levels...sounded just about as heinous as my time with Bellatrix, I guess." She diverted her glance away from the intense stare of her friend, and picked at the clover around them.

When Fleur said nothing, and just waited, Hermione finished. "I guess I didn't really wish to extend time with anyone before...until now, Fleur."

Fleur couldn't help it. The look of absolute happiness that escaped her was infectious, and Hermione couldn't help but smile back, her first genuine smile of the day.

And so they got to know each other, on their secret afternoons. Each would always amaze the other, with their skill sets. They both couldn't help but notice how well they complemented one another in their little escapades.

Fleur solidified what she already suspected about her younger companion. Hermione was wise beyond her years; serious, intelligent, but surprisingly naive, as well- which always amused the Frenchwoman to an unspoken degree. Furthermore, she had an absolutely _wicked_ sense of humor, once you got to know her; Fleur spent hours with tears rolling down her face, giggling hysterically. But above all, she was kind: Hermione demonstrated endless patience with Fleur and her struggles with English as a second language and the strange idioms of the British. She would always review Fleur's lesson plans before they were published, regardless of the hour.

What she didn't expect, however, was how _stunning_ Hermione truly was, up close.

Fleur would catch herself staring, and force herself to stop. Worse, the Veela within her would start its typical nonsense, when Hermione was around, and looking particularly desirable to her inner Veela. It was getting harder and harder to suppress her animal urges, of late.

For her part, Hermione _already_ knew that Fleur was gorgeous, sophisticated, well-read, and stylish; one hardly had to pull of the highest scores in history on the N.E.W.T.s, which she had so many years prior.

No, what was much more difficult to observe in Fleur, was that which resided below her beautiful veneer...Hermione was able to make observations that few people were privy to make, regarding Fleur Delacour. Hermione did note, superficially, that it was impossible for Fleur to ever look bad under any circumstance; but she didn't want attention for it...ever. She learned that Fleur was actually quite competitive, over everything. She was also well-read, very athletic, and Hermione was beginning to suspect she wasn't the straightest arrow in the drawer, so to speak.

What she was most surprised about, however, and most disappointed to learn, was that her friend hadn't quite come to terms with the Veela aspect of her life and being. It was almost as though she was _ashamed_ of being part... creature.

For someone like Hermione, who had devoted their adult life towards the equality of all, the learned disenfranchisement of Fleur Delacour upset Hermione, on many levels...

**XOXOXOXXXOXOXOXO**

_Flashback: 4 Years Prior _

It had been nerve racking, working on such a grizzly crime, one that always left Hermione with a bitter taste in her mouth. The only thing that distinguished this particular one was the international flavor it carried.

An international sex ring that enslaved and involved citizens from five different nations, invoving six Ministries (or equivalent) of Magic or worked tirelessly around the clock, with their best agents. For Britian, that meant Agent Hermione Granger was tasked out personally by Minister Shacklebolt, to France; she was assigned to work with "The Closer."

That gruesome case brought out of semi-retirement the storied Agent Apollene Delacour, the legend from the Direction Générale de la Sécurité Magic Extérieure, as the case involved a dead Veela that had been lured away from her clan, the largest in Europe.

Unbeknownst to Fleur, Hermione worked side by side with her mother for two months, and been allowed insights into Veela life that few humans had been privileged to hear, from one of the world's most powerful Veela alive - Fleur's mother.

_That was Fleur's legacy,_ Hermione realized. _How daunting it must be..._

Once concluded, it was time to tie up "loose ends." The Veela are a very private culture, after all. Surprisingly, Apollene had obliviated _everyone else's_ memory of the case in the British and French agencies once the case concluded; all save Hermione. The British auror watched with amusement, as multiple agents came-to with confused expressions on their faces, as they regained consciousness, around her.

She looked into the dark eyes of her intimidating counterpart.

"Am I next, Apollene?"

"The Closer" from France merely shrugged. "Non." She continued to pack her files into her briefcase, ignoring Hermione's confused look regarding her notable exclusion. After she was done packing, to her satisfaction, Apollene snapped her briefcase shut, and she finally looked at the baffled younger witch. It was only then that Apollene merely grinned, then shrugged mysteriously.

Walking away, she offered her British counterpart a cryptic "_Ca suffit_, Golden Girl. I zink 'ou may need zis knowledge, someday. It may save your life, 'ermione Granger! Besides...ze Veela clan... we_ trust_ you." Throwing her a glance over she shoulder as she walked away, regarding the girl behind her. "**I** trust you. Be well, dear girl..."

She blew Hermione a kiss, and with a _crack!_, apparated back to her home in Versailles.

**XXOXOXOXOXOXXO**

It was one of their lazy afternoons, in mid October.

Hermione sat, back against a tree, reading; Fleur laid with her head in Hermione's lap, also reading. The crispness of the air was invigorating; and Hermione's hand slipped from her book, and into the waves of golden blond hair, and she began to gently stroke the soft mane in her lap. As she continued to stroke Fleur's hair, falling into a near caress of her scalp, Fleur couldn't help the contented Veela purr that escaped from deep within.

Hermione giggled.

"Oh...I...um." Fleur's face was crimson. "I..er... didn't mean to do zat... quite so _loudly_."

Hermione looked down, gently, at the beautiful face laying in her lap. As she continued to tangle her fingers in the mane of blonde hair spread out below her, she continued to stroke Fleur's hair, gently. "Do what?" Hermione asked, softly.

"Er...Make zat _noise_." Fleur cleared her throat.

Hermione looked at her quizzically. "_What_ noise?"

"Uh...nothing. Nevermind."

Hermione looked at Fleur, again, clearly perplexed. "What? Do you mean ...your Veela _purring_ thing? "

Fleur looked shocked. "Zat sound...zat I made?"

Hermione's face demonstrated no malice or teasing, whatsoever. The Golden Girl continued, in a matter-of-fact tone, "Oh, Fleur...that's just your Veela, expressing content! I know that, I've heard it before, from other Veela. As explained to me, it seems it always purrs when it's happy, or content...it's not _weird_, or anything."

Fleur had an odd look on her face. "Hmmm. Iz zat so? You are now ze...what, ze _Veela expert_?"

Hermione's face put on a serious facade, recognizing that Fleur was getting defensive, rapidly.

"Of course not, silly! No, I worked with one...once, and I had to put up with that purring a lot. It was a Veela that loved to read, even more than I, if you can believe that. As explained to me...All Veela purr, I guess."

"Zat iz not true. I have not."

Hermione was silent. She chose her next words carefully. "Perhaps, um...and I'm no Veela expert, and I'm certainly not a Fleur Delacour expert by any means!" She gave a wan smile to the blonde, who was now sitting upright, arms folded across her chest, clearly getting more defensive by the minute.

Hermione ploughed onward. "But...is it possible, Fleur, that you have not had an occasion to...um, well..."

**"_Purr_?**" She finished, harshly.

Now it was Hermione's turn to flush. "Well, yes, I guess..."

The defensive Veela stared at Hermione, stone faced. Hermione sighed, not wanting a fight. So she touched her, stroking her arm to soothe her.

It seemed to work. As Fleur relaxed, a little, Hermione continued. "It's kinda counterintuitive, really; I mean, if its a natural instinct...explain to me why a member of the Avian species, granted very distantly, would have an instinct to purr? I find that odd."

Fleur arched her eyebrows, regarding Hermione. "You are implying, like un chatte? A ... feline?"

"Exactly. I think it odd, rather."

Fleur turned her head away, mumbling, "Je n'est de-pas, 'ermione...perhaps, it iz to..." It was a challenge to catch what the French woman was saying; she was speaking softly, and was almost faced completely opposite of the English woman. Hermione leaned forward, straining to hear the mumbled words.

"Qu'elle ce chose, comme ca..." Fleur turned suddenly, her eyes on fire, with her laser focus on Hermione. It startled her, and in that split second, Hermione gulped...

Fleur _pounced!_

"..._to hunt_, 'ermione!" Fleur articulated, clearly, leaning over the hapless witch trapped underneath the French woman. She slithered over Hermione, forcing her wrists to the ground. Hermione could not move an inch, even if she wanted to. She looked upwards, startled, at the oddly alert Potitions teacher. "It iz to ..._catch our prey._"

Hermione was unclear-totally- on what just changed in the dynamics between them in that nanosecond. All she knew is that one minute she was trying to reassure the insecure Veela, who clearly had some intimacy issues in the past, and then all of a sudden...she was pinned _underneath_ Fleur, moulded against her, curve for curve!

_What the bloody hell happened?_

Fleur showed no signs of stopping, either. The witch was pressing her weight against her in a very ..._intimate_ manner. Hermione's breathing caught, as she felt the weight of the beautiful woman, pressing urgently against her, hands roaming but using the rest of her body to keep the younger witch pinned down.

"I...um..." She was starting a thought, but completely lost it, as it was now _Fleur_ running her fingers through Hermione's hair. Her lips ghosted across the curve of her neck, and Hermione forgot anything she was going to say, at all.

She closed her eyes, and swallowed, arching slightly into Fleur's embrace and hold. Her body was completely ignoring her mind, at this point. She felt Fleur's hot breath move up her neck, as she nuzzled closer towards her right ear. Hermione trembled. When Hermione thought she couldn't take the anticipation one second longer, Fleur let out a warm breath near her ear, then murmured directly into the aroused younger witch's ear.

In a voice, almost resembling a growl, Fleur said deliberately, "Let me 'ear _you_, 'ermione...why don't _you_ purr, now, for me?"

**TBC.**


	6. An Inconveinent Truth

**Tell Me Your Secrets**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...

**A/N:** Also, thank you to some of the frequent flyers, for your return flight! GISA103, cuccino2002, silentragnarock, AnonBiggie, monkgirl, Texaschic1: good to see you back. And for those joining the party, Codyw1, blahys, tumma, emilyfieldsfan, chaosrin, MelodyDam...thanks for all the suggestions, constructive critiques, and encouragement...it's appreciated! Lastly, for you Anonymous flamers- just an ad hominem attack is really not helpful. Get some ovaries, register, and offer some specific comments- it's the adult thing to do. Alternatively stop reading every single chapter.. Just sayin'.

Now then. An extra milk at lunch if anyone has figured out the stichk with the chapter titles...and before you get ansy the nsfw is next chapter. Keep your pants on, take a cool shower, etc.

**Chapter 6. An Inconvenient Truth.**

They laid there, wrapped up in each other, for what felt like an eternity. Neither one wanted to end it, or advance it, it would seem.

Neither wanted to scare away the other, it would appear.

Hermione watched Fleur's eyes change, all most in a kaleidoscope of colors - changing from her deep aqua blue, to something much darker, finally to red with flecks of gold. After Fleur released a breath it seemed she was holding in, with her exhale, she was able to get the return of her natural blue to the edges of her iris.

"Fleur...your eyes..."

Fleur noticed the clear emotional discomfort that Hermione was in, beneath her; so the huntress swallowed her disappointment, and the Veela merely scowled. "Yes? Vat about zem?"

Fleur rolled off the younger girl, blinking rapidly, until her eyes returned to their natural state. Truthfully, Hermione was uncomfortable...but not because the feel of Fleur's body was unwelcome. Rather, it caught her totally unaware- something very different. However, Fleur had already moved away, defensively, and Hermione found herself longing for the heat of Fleur's body molded against her own. It perplexed her, really; the younger woman had never really thought of another lady in that manner. But she realized, to her surprise, she might want to...Despite the fact she technically belonged to another.

She didn't know what to make of it; what to feel...other than her feeling of desperate longing for the beautiful and complex woman she had almost kissed.

In the mildly awkward silence that followed, Hermione looked away, chuckling to herself. _Had she thought of women this way?_ She laughed, again. _Who was she kidding? She never thought of anyone that way! She might be the only asexual homo sapien on Earth...until now. _

"Are you laughing at me, 'ermione?" Fleur asked, defensively.

Hermione's eyes shot back to her friend, laying next to her on the clover field. "No!" She insisted, brows furrowing. "No..not at all, Fleur! No...but I was actually thinking about...well, _you_, really..."

"So you _were_-"

"Hold up! **No**, I wasn't!" Hermione defended, putting her hand up, to calm the Frenchwoman. "I was merely thinking that...oh, bother! I think...um. I think you have caused me to think of things...a little bit differently that I did before."

"Iz zat bad?"

"I don't think so. Just...different."

"Hmm." Fleur said, still unconvinced.

Hermione's hand shot up, touching Fleur's face, gently. She cupped her cheek, and then began to gently stroke her face, attempting to calm her skittish and painfully insecure friend. "Look, Fleur...I...what happened, just now..."

Fleur instinctively knew it wasn't the right time yet, to entertain this...whatever "this" was, between them...yet. She pulled her face out of Hermione's grasp. She silently cursed her inner Veela, for forcing "it", prematurely.

Deflecting, she changed the subject quickly.

With a dismissive glance, she shot out, "Eh, look...I am Veela. I get carried away. No 'arm done, right? Let's get back to zat dreary castle of ours, before Minerva realizes zere are only 80 year old instructors left, in ze building, Ay?"

Hermione fought down an inexplicable feeling of disappointment, and resigned herself to just nodding, allowing herself to be pulled up to standing by her bestie. The air was formal, between them, as they gathered their picnic items and headed back. It wash't long after they started walking back in silence, that when Hermione cocked her head.

"What was that?" She asked.

Fleur looked agitated. "Vat now?"

"Nothing...I just thought...I thought I _heard_ something."

Fleur stared at her, disbelievingly, as she continued their forced walk at a breakneck pace. She was deliberately not attending to what Hermione had just said. Eventually, after hearing the Gryffindor huff, Fleur offered a terse,

"Mmm? Like..._what_, 'ermione?"

Hermione shook her head, troubled. "It was like...I'm not sure, maybe... a dismayed_ wail,_ almost? Like a cry of pain, almost. You know, like when a lion gets a splinter in its paw, or something?"

Fleur shook her head, cursing under her breath. She closed her eyes, collecting herself.

"We should 'ead back, ze forest is full of zings, and it iz getting dark. I 'eard nozzing... I zink you may 'ave just imagined it, 'ermione."

Fleur turned around, cursing inwardly, and missing the frown on her younger companions' face at being dismissed, so readily. When Hermione could no longer see her when Fleur turned to face forward, The blonde hissed to herself in low, threatening tones. She admonished her inner Veela for protesting... so loudly. Loud enough for the cause of the Veela's inner discontent to actually hear it.

Fleur was furious.

She ordered it to_ shut the hell up_, and try not to expose them furither, before they returned to the castle.

This was a decision Fleur's Veela was clearly unhappy about, but the human half could care less about what the inner Veela wanted .Fleur grew steadily more irritated, as she continued to wage an internal argument with her creature side.

From behind, Hermione thought it odd, all the animated gesticulations Fleur was making as they walked back to the Castle, ostensibly trying to NOT draw attention to themselves. She could make out empassioned murmuring, as though Fleur was talking ...to herself.

"Besides...she iz straight, you... _vous bête stupide_!" Fleur hissed, to herself, striding ahead of Hermione towards the castle. Fleur was **so** frustrated...and now she was getting a migraine.

_ The Veela wants what it wants,_ Fleur thought disgustedly. _And now, it has put her in a horrible position that is virtually un-winnable!_

Fleur was never so happy to see the gates of Hogwarts as she was in that moment. She needed to put some distance -stat- between herself and Mademosielle Granger, if she hoped to reign in her Veela. Otherwise Fleur imagined she would soon be debasing Hermione in a very lurid manner, smack dab in the center of the public common area of the main gate.

Because _she would_, if things continued...unchecked.

Fleur hissed to herself. The Veela was distraught..._it almost had her, its mate, almost...and then, something happened! _

"**Non!"** Fleur said, to herself. _"Nozzing 'append_, ignorant beast! Nozzing _will_ 'appen, eizer! _When will you learn?_ It iz a lost cause! Just...stop, before you make us botz insane!" In her rush and irritation, the Potions Mistress _missed_ altogether the frown that creeped across Hermione-the former Auror's -face, as she continued walking behind her, quietly.

There were many characteristics to Hermione that had made her a talented Auror, of course: determination, a good eye for detail, patience, excellent hand to eye coordination, good memory skills, and a keen intellect.

Topping the list, of course, was her _excellent_ hearing.

Fleur schooled her features, turning around to face Hermione. "I zink I am more tired zan I realized, my friend! I am going to... head to my quarters, tout suite. Goodnight, 'ermione..." Abruptly, she turned to leave, putting distance between them.

No hug...no tiny little "good night" bis, as was their unspoken tradition; Hermione felt her heart break, just a little tiny bit, Watching the backside of Fleur Delacour, as as she walked away from her.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Fortunately, their little falling out was only a few days before the long weekend of fall break. Fleur had volunteered to be the facility advisor to remain at the castle for the students not returning home; most of Hogwarts was surprised that Hermione wasn't going to stay as well. Where one went, usually the other would follow. It was just a given! Frick, with Frack. It appeared Frick and Frack would separate at the hip - much to everyone's surprise, this weekend!

Hermione was _dreading_ the weekend.

Worse, she knew she _shouldn't_ be dreading it. She should be _looking forward_ to seeing the person she was actually married to, especially given the fact they hadn't spent a single night together in almost 3 1/2 months! Work was busy for both, with Ron out of the country for a majority of the time; Hogwarts was not exactly a place one could just pop into, either.

Strangely enough, when she thought about it-if she thought about it-she knew that probably wasn't a good thing that she didn't really mind the separation. She sighed.

_How did she get saddled with such adult problems?_ It felt like just yesterday that she was entering Hogwarts as a student, for Merlin's sake! _And her marriage...how on Merlin's knee was it supposed to transition through the trials and tribulations of adult life and all its complexities, when their actual bloody relationship was forged under the auspices of childhood? Of being **children**, together, as their commonality? How is a marriage supposed to mature, that is by definition is at its genesis...immature? How does one survive that?_ She mused.

However, she realized on the most basic level, a marriage's survival required one to actually physically see their spouse, at some point, in order for it to survive _at all. _Hell, she had gotten so uncharacteristically lacksidasical about even _writing_ to Ron- to the point where her concerned spouse had floo'ed Hagrid last month, asking him to "check in on her" to make sure she hadn't been kidnapped or something.

It was so hard, to give any time to someone who was so disconnected from her, in every way, these days. It was_ very_ time consuming, learning how to be a teacher, mentoring the next generation, and such...

Hermione grimaced.

_What a load of horse crap!_ She wasn't being honest, and she knew it. _Hermione Granger, what's happened to you? _She pondered. _You used to be a straight shooter. Admit it, Hermione...The bottom line is, if you wanted to, you would have made time. Both of you would have. You just are growing apart, and realizing your differences, finally._

Unfortunatley, this process was happening at exactly the same as Hermione was realizing what it meant to be in sync with another,_ effortlessly._ The compare and contrast between her current relationship with Fleur, and her previous relationship with Ron...it was night and day. Hermione stopped walking in the hallway, altogether. She was by herself, now, and she was thankful for small miracles, because she felt like she was going to hyperventilate in a very undignified manner. Best that there were no witnesses...

_Did you really **just actually **parallel your "life with Fleur" to your "life with Ron"? What the** hell** is wrong with you, Granger? You've gone nutters!... Fleur is._..not_ your legal spouse. Ron IS._

The Golden Girl glanced around the empty hallway, once again. As always, she operated on facts, and logic. It had won a war, after all, her use of those things. Applying those skills, she reminded herself of the unmuttable conclusions she drew up: Firstly, Fleur was not even a viable option, as she was not _a male... _and she herself was heterosexual, right? Wasn't she? Secondly, the breathtaking Veela was SO far out of her league, she couldn't even _ask for directions_ where Fleur's league might be playing, that day...

Example: Hemione was very sexually awkward, and she knew that; she still refused to be naked in front of her husband, especially if the lights were on or it was daytime. Fleur was the exact opposite; Blushing, Hermione would often use the barter system to get her to put on some damn clothes! Thinking of their previous Friday Night Beverage session, and chasing the witch around the faculty quarters, insisting she put on _at least_ a scarf to cover those magnificent breasts...she flushed, recalling her immodest laughter. Worse, Fleur promptly ignored her, laughing at Hermione's utter modesty, as though daring her to look.

_Please, oh please, don't let it get weird between Fleur and I...this will be such a long year, without her! She's the only thing making my life bearable_

Hermione sighed, heart heavy, and she retired to her own quarters, to reflect on the evening's strange turn of events. She was determined to figure it out, before the inevitability that awaited her over the weekend.

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

_One Day Before the "Long weekend" of Fall Break_

Things were _definitely_ tense and becoming increasingly _more so_ between the BFF's, or _"The Besties," "Frick and Frack"; or the " The Weird Sisters,"_ as they were nicknamed in secret. it unsettled most of the staff, even. Finially, the night before she was due to leave, Professor Granger snuck into Fleur's room, and promptly whacked her until she woke up.

_She couldn't be sure_, but she was fairly certain she saw dried tear tracks on her face and pillow. Additionally, while she -again-couldn't be certain, for sure, without independent confirmation, but... there was a high likelihood that Fleur was sleeping...in the buff.

Both prospects made Hermione feel equally unsettled.

"Fleur!" Hissed Hermione, in the dark.

Fleur bolted up, unsheathing her hidden wand and nearly hitting Hermione square in the the chest with a doozy of a stunner spell. Fortunately, Hermione's past life and childhood prepared her well. She had her wandless Protego spell cast long before Fleur even let her spell rip.

Fleur's eyes adjusted rapidly in the dark, and she almost laughed out loud.

"Mon Dieu! 'ermione, iz zat ze jacket and crossiard I wore for ze Triwizard Tournament?" Fleur asked, incredidiulously.

Hermione raised her head, defensivly. "Yes, it is, as a matter of fact! You _did_ give it to me, Fleur."

Fleur nodded, laughing outright. "Mais, oui, I did..._c'est vrai;_ but why are you wearing it, right now?"

"Because you and I are going on a little caper right now."

"Now?!"

_"Did I stutter?_ Get some robes on your naked arse, Delacour, and...hustle hustle hustle!" Hermione grinned. "We have a tiny little caper ahed of us, to do _together,_ tonight."

Fleur rolled her eyes. "I take it, it iz nozing to do wiz doing back to bedroom to get some shut eye?"

"Where's your sense of adventure, Fleur? _Get out_ of the bedroom, and come on!"

The blonde choked back the dozens of wildly inappropriate statements the Veela offered in that moment, referencing to that statement. Establishing a loose control, after a few moments, Fleur finally directed her efforts towards assemblage of clothing...something analogous to what Hermione was wearing herself.

As she dressed quickly, a hum of excitement washed over her body, as she felt her Thrall recharge for the first. _What does that little beautiful muffin 'ave in mind?_ Fleur wondered.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**"Non!** _Absolument pas!" _Fleur was pacing around the pit, furious. "Zat is ze _damn dumbest_ idea I 've ever heard, 'ermione Jean Granger!"

Hermione ignored Fleur's outburst, choosing instead to unpack her now famous beaded bag, calmly. Hermione fussed over her bag, unloading the bizarre items, one by one. A bottle of dittany; gauze; a package of brown paper from the deli; a bucket of water; and Harry's old quiddich goggles.

Fleur raised her eyebrows.

"Qu'est-ce c'est?"

"Here in Scotland, we speak the Kings English, Fleur."

"Oui... Kings English._.What iz all that bloody shit?_"

"Just preparing for every contingency when you shift."

Fleur gave her a look of death. "Well, you can just put all zat crap back in your ugly beaded bag, zen ! I'm not going to do it!"

"Why not?" she asked, simply.

Fleur sputtered out a response. "Because... because, well, for one zing, itz dangerous! Ze Veela iz violent, 'ermione! It comes out in times of great stress and emotional upheaval..."

"... Fear of death, sex, what else?"

"I don't know, truthfully...it's only ever come out when I've been in danger and I needed to defend myself."

"You mean, that's when you let it out...and Fleur: first of all it's not an "it", Fleur. It's you - it's part of _you_. It's something to be embraced and revered, not ashamed of!"

Fleur scowled. "Oh, you know so much about ze Veela, do you?"

Hermione bowed up to her friend. "Sometimes I think I actually do know more about Veela than you do, yes, Professor Delacour."

Fleur was incredulous. "How Dare you say zat...how can you even Zink... ?"

"Well," Hermione began slowly, "because _I'm interested_! I respect them; I respect you for what you are." She let her statement sink in before she continued. ".. And I learn because Im willing to listen, Fleur. I'm interested in knowing more, which is something I can definitely say you are not."

The blonde was flabbergasted.

Hermione continued. "For example, did you know that you can shift in times of calm and serenity? Your Veela can be called on when you need perspective that's a little bit different than a humans' perspective. In fact, I worked with somebody that did that often."

"That's 'ow you know?" Fleur asked, curious. "You 'ad a colleague zat was Veela?"

"Yes, real world experience!" Hermione chuckled.

Fleur felt suddenly jealous. "Wait a minute! Zat Veela...she didn't try to make any advances on you, did she? I know 'ow ze Veela can be..."

Hermione guffawed. "Are you kidding me? Firstly. she was quite happily mated. Secondly, she scared the _absolute piss_ out of me!"

They both laughed .

"Fleur...now come on. why don't you give it a try? I bet your Veela is dying to get out..." Hermione encouraged.

It was in that moment - the sort in which you jump off a really high bridge into water and "just go for it" moment - that defies reason.

Fleur _went for it_.

The Englishwoman winced, hearing the sounds of the cracks and the breaking bones, as they remodeled into something more akin to an avian dragon. She heard Fleur release cries of pain, until the skin revealed, and the lustrous white feathers sprouted, while the scales overgrew the skin. It soon epithelizing over the dermal layer.

Fleur became her Veela.

The younger woman looked up, and gasped."Oh my word, your beautiful!" She exclaimed to the much larger presence before her .

It regarded her suspiciously.

"Oh, but where are my manners?" Hermione said, as she rustled toward her brown parcel. The Veela spread its wings, getting skittish.

"Wait! Here! I have it on very good authority that this is a proper friendship offering!" Hermione smiled, holding up the foul smelling contents of the brown parcel.

The Veela sniffed with curiosity, when recognizing the smell, lunged at Hermione's hands. Hermione, to her credit, didn't flinch, she stood her ground. The excited young Veela extended a forked tongue, sweeping up the collection of mealworms, ginger root, and French Endive out of Hermione's Palm.

After swallowing it in one gulp, it approached the Gryffindor. Hermione bowed her head. The Veela returned the bow. Hermione peeked up, and smiled. Gently, she approached the fierce looking beast, until she was right next to it.

"Fleur? I'm going to pet you now, okay?"

The creature nodded, and cocked its head to allow the brunette to reach up, and scratch, behind the ear. A grin broke across hermione's face as she distinctly heard the rumblings of a familiar sound:

Purring.

The Veela flopped down, unceremoniously, with the human following. The odd bedfellows sat on the grass like that, for several hours, until Hermione realized the time.

"Merlin's beard! I have to get back, Fleur! My train is going to leave in 3 hours!"

THe Veela nodded in understanding, ducking its head between HErmione's legs.

"What th-?" The brunette exclaimed, startled.

Sliding its neck through her legs, it lifted its neck, funneling the Golden Girl onto its back, and spread its considerable wingspan out. Before she knew it, she was onFleurs back, holding on for dear life, as the Veela soared aloft and took flight back towards the castle.

"Fleur!" Screamed Hermione, "have I told you I'm deathly afraid of flying?" She wailed in distress.

The Veela continued their flight, flapping its wings, despite Hermione's protests. And so, the distinct sounds could be heard that night, of a Veela laughing at its new (old) friend, gliding through the backdrop of the night sky.

TBC.


	7. No More Lies

**Tell Me Your Secrets**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...

**A/N:** Okay. NSFW. I can't say it any plainer than that.

**Chapter 7. No More Lies**

The second she left Fleur to board the train (she scored facility train duty on the Hogwarts Express), she felt ill.

That feeling of malaise never went away, fully; as she leaned her head against the window and watched the rolling countryside, she wished she was headed the other direction. The malaise stayed with her, the moment she saw her husband, and only deepened when he gave her an enthusiastic kiss, on platform 9 3/4. He looked proud to have her, as he marshaled her off the platform, acknowledging the many eyes and waves of onlookers admiring 2/3 of the Golden Trio.

Hermione simply felt like she wanted to vomit.

"Gin and Har are waiting for us at the burrow, 'Mione." He said, enthusiastically.

"**Her**mione." She added, quietly, looking away.

Ron frowned. "Oh, right, sorry!" He sighed. "Well, you okay? Need anything to eat?"

She shook her head, no.

"You're being awfully quiet, dear."

She attempted to muster a smile, feeling simply dead inside. Suffocitating. _ Is this all there is left, for me? For us?_ She wondered, panicked. _A lifetime of merely enduring one another? _Out loud, she merely offered, "I'm sorry. I'm exhausted. This term was harder than I expected it to be."

"That's 'cause you're such a perfectionist! You know, you sometimes need to let things go...you know, maybe not kill yourself so much."

She looked at him, irritated, then simply looked away.

**XOXOXOXOXXO**

That night, when he touched her, she felt her skin crawl.

_No no no! Stop touching me!_ She thought to herself, with horror. Then, her brain waged war with her heart, as it dutifully reminded her that he was_ her husband_, and this was part of being _his wife._

His hand ran up her side, and she did her best not to flinch away. His body slid upward, until he was pressed on top of her, looking at her with his goofy smile, and the beginning of his errection starting to poke at her.

She felt like she was going to be ill. Never had something felt so horribly wrong to her. I a panic, she questioned herself, internally:

Was it because of Fleur? She questioned herself.

She thought long and hard about it, ad realized honestly that no-it actually was not. It wasn't about Fleur or wanting someone besides her husband. With a relieved sadness, she realized it was because of her, Hermione, and no one else.

She wanted more for herself, and she was tired of compromising. Every kiss he gave her, every touch- it meant that she was selling herself short. She was accepting "good enough" out of the fear she could never have better.

Every kiss felt like...disappointment.

It always had.

Hermione realized in that moment, the fear of being alone was far preferable to the feeling of being with the wrong person, and compromising herself.

She pushed him off of her. "Ron...I'm so sorry. I..I can't do this anymore." She rolled of the bed, and he grabbed her by the wrist.

His face held no malice, just genuine concern.

"How long?" He croaked.

She looked down at him gently, then closed her eyes. With a sigh, she said, "A long time, Ron. This has been a_ long time_ coming."

"Is there someone else?" He asked quietly.

She could have said many things, but primarily acknowledge she was tired of living the lie. Tired of pretending to love him, when she didn't. Tired of letting the guilt that she should love him outweigh the reality that she didn't. The one thing she didn't do, which she would be very glad for later, was lie about loving him when she loved another fully instead. She was at least honorable in that respect, even though she had an inkling that that may someday occur.

She looked at him thoughtfully. "Yes, Ron, there is...it's **me**. I'm leaving you, for _me_."

She was grateful he didn't argue, or rage, or any of the things he could have done. She realized that must have been because, in part, he must have felt this coming as well. Who knows, perhaps he felt a deep relief deep down that she was the one brave enough to do it for them. Either way, he said nothing as she gathered her things and headed for the guest bedroom, and prepared the documentation for the trip she would make to the ministry first thing in the morning.

**XOXOXOXO**

Feeling better than she had in years, Hermione apparated back to outside Hogwarts immediately after the ministry. Even if she floo'ed back to the train station on Monday if they needed her still as a chaperone, she didn't care. That was far preferable to remaining there one more day in the stilted silence they shared, now a separated couple, awaiting the final divorce. She walked back to the gates of Hogwarts, feeling unsettled, but light of heart.

She stopped by the Headmistresses' office first, and informed Minerva in the most minimalist way of what happened. Her former mentor did not seem all that surprised about it, but was steady and reassuring, nonetheless. Hermione then headed toward her professors' quarters in Gryffindor tower.

She slowly put away all her things, in a neat stack, where they belonged. After she put the things away neatly in her quarters, she looked around her tidy barracks, and she still felt unsettled. Something seemed...missing.

The Golden Girl tried to tell herself it was merely because of her huge change of life- it was a big transition, to give up your childhood in that manner, and turn the page, as Minerva would remind her, later. She knew, intellectually, that it was a big thing, to leave your childhood sweetheart, after all-and theirs had been such a public romance, at that. Much of Britain would take this to heart. As much as she disliked it, she recognized that her life no longer belonged to just her alone-or Ron and Harry's lives, as well-and hadn't for years.

Albet true, that wasn't what left her feeling unsettled, she finally admitted.

So, she decided to end that feeling of ennui.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOX**

She looked everywhere for her, but she was no where to be found. She wasn't in her quarters, in the RoR, the library; she walked the grounds by the lake...Hermione was at a loss. She walked back to her quarters, and pulled from her foot chamber, one of the two qifts from Harry.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." And she tapped it twice with her wand. She looked down at the yellowed parchment. "Show me Fleur Delacour."

Hermione frowned, when she saw the blue dot circling around the shrieking shack. It was then she realized...

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Hermione sheilded her eyes, looking upwards.

Though it was an overcast day, there was still solar glare, and she couldn't be sure, but she thought...maybe..

**"Fleur!"** She hollered, towards the sky. "Fleur, are you there?" She squinted her gaze, continuing to search the sky.

An almost imperceptible black dot from the sky hovered, momentarily, then began a downward spiral below. In almost breakneck speed, the majestic visage of the Veela sailed overhead, gliding close to Hermione's head. It circled her again, before landing with a swoop, in front of her. Hermione smiled, holding out some Mint Juniper and mealworms, which the Veela sniffed and snapped up from her hand, quickly retreating.

"Oh, so that's how it is, huh?" Hermione said. "Just use me for my treats?" She chuckled.

The Veela glared at her, licked its lips, then she heard the unmistakable cracking of bones that was associated with the transformation. Although she had seen it before, it still seemed painful to the human, and she winced for her friend. Hermione looked downward, while Fleur went to the base of the tree trunk and retrieved her satchel of clothing and redressed.

"You're back...early, 'ermione." Fleur said, nonchalantly.

"Yes."

Hermione just looked at Fleur, who was fluffing out her hair. Even today, the woman still took her breath away. She had not a lick of makeup on, and her hair was somewhat wild from flying around in the sky; she always looked a little haggard immediately following her transformation.

But Hermione couldn't deny the fact she was simply stunning.

Fleur looked bemused. "Somezing to zay, mademoiselle Granger?"

Hermione looked at her, speechless.

Fleur reached into her bag grabbing a hair tie and binding her beautiful hair into a tight high ponytail. Watching her, the brunette felt like she had forgotten how to speak. Such a simple act and yet she made it so .._.sensuous._

Hermione's brain was short-circuiting. She never really truly allowed herself permission to think that way, regarding Fleur, until now. In part because she was not completely free, and Hermione was just not that kind of person. But now, she was.

Fleur, for her part, seemed somewhat deliberately oblivious to her friends internal struggle. Instead she offered simply a terse "You're back early, 'ermione? Trouble in ze golden paradise?"

Hermione felt stung, both by the words and the delivery, and simply looked down and said nothing.

Fleur stopped being snarky, sensing her friends distress. She quickly moved close to Hermione, face serious, and put her arms on her shoulders that seemed so unexpectedly tense.

"_Are you okay_?" she asked gently.

"We separated."

Fleur felt as though the wind was knocked out of her. A tiny little piece inside of her ignited the flame that fanned the dangerous prospect of hoping...

"Really?" she asked, clearing her throat.

"Really."

Fleur said nothing as she stood there, just looking at her friend. After moment she looked at Hermione thoughtfully, and gestured towards the castle.

"Come... let us go."

Hermione nodded, and wordlessly followed the beautiful witch. As they walked, their pace was slow and deliberate, and the conversation nonexistent, each not saying much. However the nervous glances they cast each other spoke volumes. They arrived at Fleur's quarters first.

The Veela cleared her throat, and put aside her uncharacteristic nervousness to ask, "Er...would you like to come in? 'ave some ... 'ow zey say... Tea and sympathy?"

Hermione nodded. "I would love that, Fleur." As Hermione walked in her space, she immediately noticed the unusual disarray. Books were everywhere, empty bottles of wine and uncollected wine glasses littered the room; clothing lay in a heap on the floor. She looked around, and said gingerly, "um, if this isn't a good time, I can come back-"

"**Non**!" Fleur cut her off, abruptly. "It'z ..._fine, _'ermione." She looked at her residence through Hermione's eyes, and let out a bitter laugh. Gesturing around her, she offered, " I was just a little bit... _distraught_..."

Fleur took out her wand, and let out a few rapid fire cleaning spells, and the place became its usual orderly habitat.

Hermione stepped directly into the line of sight of Fleur Delacour. She looked her directly in the eyes, holding her gaze, evenly. After a beat, she said in a quiet voice, "I'm sorry I distressed you, Fleur."

Fleur folded her arms across her chest in her usual defensive posturing. "Vat makes you say zat?"

Hermione continued to look at her, evenly. She said nothing, for a moment. "Because... _you like me_, Fleur. Like...like me. And it upset you that I left."

_Whoosh!_ Hermione Granger put the truth out there, _way out_ there...and that headlong crash into reality caused Fleur to feel as though she was going to have an imminent cardiac arrest! Her body felt the stress hormone kick in, and as a result, She felt the early vestiges of the change. Her fingers were starting to crack, slightly, and elongate...

Hermione closed the distance between them, sensing Fleur's turmoil; and she pulled the French witch into a tight embrace, rubbing her back to calm her. Fleur, against her will, couldn't help but to melt into the comfort of that embrace - _her_ embrace- and sigh, resigned. It was as though her body finally exhaled, and relaxed, almost; the comforting arms and the familiar smell and the utter goodness that was her friend and unrequited love, Hermione Jean Granger...and the gentle strokes against her back did calm her inner Veela, soothing it.

A low whisper shook her out of her reflection.

"_Because,_ Fleur Isabelle, you see.._.well._ I feel _exactly_ the same way about **you**...that you do, about me..."

She pulled away, to look into Fleur's eyes. The Veela's eyes were no longer Cerulian Blue; they were dark and focused on nothing but Hermone's mouth. Her breaths were shallow, and had a small desperate rasp to them. She closed her eyes, as the smaller witch cupped her cheek with her right hand. "But Fleur, you do realize, I couldn't...wouldn't...act on those feelings, when I promised myself otherwise...?"

Fleur let out a barely imperceptible nod.

"Zat is why William and I..." Her scratchy voice cut out.

Hermione looked at her incredulously. "But..but that happened, before school started, Fleur!"

A slightly tragic smile slid across the French woman's face.

The shorter woman's eyes widened, with realization. "But ... how could you know? What made you think - did you..."

Fleur sighed. "Yes, I knew."

"How long?"

The blond witch shifted, clearly uncomfortable.

"How on Earth could you know that you liked me, Fleur? You didn't really even know me!"

"You are wrong, 'ermione. _I do_ know you - ze most primitive part of you; and I 'ave for a long, long time. En outré...I don't like you, c'est vrai; Mais non, 'ermione...I _love_ you..."

Hermione tried to keep the shock off her face.

Fleur searched her eyes. "I've loved you... _for az long az I can remember,_ Cheri."

Hermione's arms dropped lower, her mind reeling with the confession. She looked away, her mind trying to process this new information. This Goddess, this...angel? The woman who had tormented her dreams for many months now? The future Alpha of the Delacour Clan, and daughter of the fiercest Veela alive? She...her... Hermione couldn't process it all.

Fleur grew nervous with the growing silence. "I...I don't expect anzying from you, Mademoselle, truly! I .. I ...

Hermione's eyes snapped up. "And why not?" She asked, challenging.

Fleur's eyes shot back up with the unexpected salvo. She realized the shift of perception that had just occurred. Tightening her arms around the younger witch, she slammed her rear ward with force until her back hit the wall behind her. Fleur pressed her front against Hermione, and gazed down, with a clearly predatory gaze.

"_Why not?_ Because, dear 'ermione...you are ze only person in ze world who doesn't recognize ze fact zat you _belong to me_! No one else should touch you..."

And as she leaned forward, she could feel the Transfiguration professor's body tremble slightly as she bent down, to take Hermione's lips in a demanding and bruising manner. No, it was no tender first kiss; this was meaty and raw, and full of the desire Fleur had pent up for so many years. She ached to feel her; feel every part of h her, against her own body.

"...but me."

Fleur communicated that intent with her hungry mouth.

"Ohhhh, 'ermione..." Fleur said, as her lips were literally everywhere on Hermione's face, and neck. She let out a gasp. "...'ave to feel you...touch you..."

Hermione threw her head back, as she arched into Fleur, "Holy Mother, Fleur! You...you... feel so _damn incredible_..."

Hermione was trembling. Never had she felt like this; never had a kiss or a touch made her feel so alive! Never had she felt so much desire, or felt so desired. She was literally consumed by the woman who's hands were busy staking their claim on her presently. And she couldn't help the groan from escaping her lips, as they sought the reconnection with Fleur.

With that moan, Fleur used it to her advantage. She stuck her considerably talented tounge into Hermione's mouth.

"Mmmmm..." She murmured into Hermione's mouth. She hissed when Hermione grabbed with with her lips, and began sucking on it, in return.

Fleur's body was on fire, the desire consuming her. She pressed deeper and harder against Hermione, her right leg sliding between Hermione, seeking the desperate contact. Fleur lifted her leg, grazing Hermione's sex, and pressing harder against it.

"You are delicious, Mademoselle...I want you. I want you so much!" She grunted. She thrust her right leg firmly against Hermione's sex.

Hermione shuddered against Fleur, the thrust causing a pulse between her legs and a pool of fluid to seep past her panties. Her face was flushed, and she wanted Fleur, in kind; but she forced herself to clear her mind.

"How _wet_ are you for me...'ermione Granger?" Growled the blonde, as she bit into her neck, sure to leave a mark.

The dirty talk momentarily clouded her mind, and Hermione redoubled her efforts to keep her sanity. She pushed Fleur away from her, to great protest.

"Fleur..." Hermione began firmly.

The Veela was irritated.

"Look, I know in our lives, we will_ fuck_ each other silly and most undoubtedly raw...but in this moment, for my first time with you...I..."

Her hesitant tone had appeased Fleur, and looked at her, surprisingly patient.

Hermione blushed. "For the first time, well, I want to ... make love to you. In a bed. Not..."

"..._get fucked_ against a wall?" Fleur finished with a low chuckle.

Hermione nodded.

Fleur tilted her head, and merely extended her hand out to the nervous Gryffindor.

"Zen come, zis way, s'il vous plait..my love."

Hermione smiled in return. Without hesitation, she reached down, and took the elegant hand offered to her, and headed off in the direction of Fleur Delacour's bedroom.

**TBC.**


	8. Truth or Dare

**Tell Me Your Secrets**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...

**A/N:** Okay. NSFW, part deux. I can't say it any plainer than that. NOT SAFE FOR WORK.

**Chapter 8. Truth or Dare**

She was falling...drowning...losing herself.

And furthermore, Hermione Granger did not care she had lost any semblance of control.

This must mean what it felt like, to be alive. Alive... the sensation of her skin, pressing against the older woman. The woman who had laid her down, gently, onto her bed and spread her own body languidly across her, rendering her helpless to combat the feeling as her body trembled with the magnitude of what she was doing, and what she was going to give to the older woman.

She remembered every feel, every smell... It smelled like Vanilla and Juniper and just the_ essence_ of Fleur...it was intoxicating. Hermione she knew she was lost.

She had slept over with Fleur before, certainly, but never with the intent to _make love _to her.

Tonight, as she lay underneath Fleur, the older woman's lips crashing down hard, upon hers, there was no doubt whatsoever as to what would result from the events of this evening.

_She would become Fleur Delacour's ...tonight._

Emphatically.

She didn't remember how exactly her robes had been removed from her body, or when Fleur had removed hers in kind; most of it was a blur in terms of actually getting_ to_ the bed. When time slowed to a screeching halt was the moment in which her naked skin touched that of her Veela lovers' body; the heavy desire shook Hermione to her core, it was so overwhelming.

She had never wanted something, so much; never felt so carnal, or desired something of the physical nature in her adult life.

Really, she had never _wanted_ before...never, until Fleur.

"_Ohhh,_ God.._.Fleur_." She groaned, swallowing hard. She lay against her, and trembled, feeling Fleur's hand lightly trail down her body. The delicate hand started with her face, moving to her neck, then trailing down her chest; she stopped, deliberately at her right breast, and began to stroke it.

Hermione then became reduced to the simple gutteral sounds that Fleur could elicit from her.

Hermione's first sound was as she let out a gasp during Fleur's initial exploration: the French woman circled her nipple with her feather-light fingertips, causing her nipple to pebble into a hardened nub.

She next let out several small murmers of arousal and approval with the continued touches. Fleur gazed at her, deliberately, and then _tweaked_ it, squeezing down hard; Hermione uttered a gasp of discomfort bordering on pain.

That protest was quickly replaced by a _deep moan_ of pleasure, as Fleur's head dipped low, her warm mouth encircling the red nipple. The French witch laved her tongue across the base of it, circling, slowly..._teasing._..

"_Mmmmm_, 'ermione... your body responds _so well_, to me..."

Fleur palmed the other breast, kneading it, while centering her core directly over Hermione's increasingly moist sex; Fleur mouth, however, continued its ministrations, suckling on Hermione's nipple, which continued to harden as Fleur's mouth continued its assault. Fleur pressed her core against Hermione's, while keeping their bodies in that position long enough for Hermione to begin to sweat, overflowing with desire.

"Fleur,_ please._.." She begged. She didn't know what she was begging for, exactly; she just knew she_ had_ to have **"it"**. And she needed Fleur to give **"it"** to her.

Fleur popped her mouth off Hermione's left nipple, having switched, and looked up, with a lascivious grin.

"What, please, _exactly,_ 'ermione?"

Hermione had been grinding her core into Fleur in frustration - needing contact, begging for more.

"Fl-Fleur-please! I beg you...I need..."

"You want me to deal wiz **zis**?" She said, emphatically, sliding her fingers through Hermione's swollen and moist folds, containing an obscene amount of wetness pooled at her opening. Hermione would have been embarrased if it wern't for the deliberate relish with which Fleur played with it, clearly enjoying it.

"You 'ave no idea, young lady, what a turn-on zis iz, for me..."

She ran her fingers back and forth across the surface, and Hermione's legs bucked in eager response.

"...**zis**, your response, to me...to _us._" She let out a small growl, from deep in her throat.

The Veela's eyes were black. Regarding her prey, below her, looking Hermione directly in her eyes, Fleur growled again. "_So wet_, 'ermione. You are so...very...**wet**..." she swiped her fingers through the moisture between Hermoine's center, undulating back and forth, until her fingers were saturated with the Gryffindor's arousal. She then brought the fingertips to her own mouth, her perfect ruby red lips.

Hermione let out a small murmer, as she watched the fingers travel to the perfect bow shaped lips, above her. Her eyes widened as she heard Fleur's brazen statment:

"But...I must_ taste_...taste ze woman who 'as 'eld me captive, since I waz seventeen..."

Staring openly at Hermione, Fleur brought the fingertips to her mouth; Hermione gasped out loud as Fleur opened her own lips and she placed them on her tongue, and sucked the taste off her fingers, _savoring_ Hermione.

Fleur hummed her approval, as her whole body trembled. "Merde! You taste..._Donc bonne baise._..."

She licked her fingers, and returned them to the mound between Hermione's legs. Fleur pressed down, gently, just enough to make her presence felt at Hermione's entrance.

"..._soooo_ fucking good, ma belle." She collapsed into the chest of the woman below her, her arousal almost consuming her.

Hermione was gripping her, tightly, around her neck; arching into the woman, her body begging for release. The heat between their bodies was palpable, and they were both sweating. Hermione groaned, and widened her legs, underneath Fleur, as though to help propel Fleur's ministrations to what she needed.

"I know what you want..." Fleur growled, speaking directly into Hermione's chest, not meeting her eyes. She resumed the oscillation of her fingers, as they swiped back and forth across Hermione's opening.

"_I know what you need_, 'ermione..."

They exchanged a look.

"Will you let me give it, to you, ma petite chou? Will you _let_ me love you?"

"Yes..." Hermione exhaled, breathlessly. "I think I may_ die_ soon, if you don't. Please, Fleur, **please.**.."

The blonde arched a sculpted eyebrow. "Please?" She asked, as though the clarification was necessary.

"Yes, Please! _Please,_ Fleur..._ Enter_ me! Take me! I, um, you... make love to me...make me yours! _Really_ yours."

Fleur looked at her, pensively.

"Ma belle...if you _did_ spend time with ze Veela, az you say, zen you know...or must suspect, anyway. I cannot enter into zis wiz you lightly, 'ermione. Zere is no 'middle ground' for us. We do it well, or not at all."

Hermione ran her hands through the blonde's hair, caressing it, while she gave Fleur a concerned look. "Meaning?"

Fleur cupped Hermione's face. "Touching you, it iz all I've ever wanted. But..." With a solemn reverence that belied their naked state, she continued, _"I cannot do zis_, wiz you, and walk away. So if we enter into zis, you must know what it meanz to me. "

Fleur cleared her throat. "I waz _meant_ to love you, Hermione Jean Granger, and _only_ you."

"How do you think that you can know that?"

Fleur's expression was almost grim. She closed her eyes, then spoke. "Because, 'ermione... you are my mate."

The Veela prepared herself for what she was sure to be the fallout; however, it never came. She opened her eyes slowly, and glanced at the naked woman lying underneath her. The smartest witch of her era merely looked back at Fleur, returning her gaze with a calm and steady look.

"Well, uh...I guessed as much, Fleur."

"You_ guessed?_ But 'ermione...Do you understand? I can _never_ walk away." Fleur swallowed nervously.

**"Good!** I wouldn't ever want you to." Hermione said, calmly.

_"You_ could leave, however..."

"No, I couldn't." She raised her hand to silence the Veela's protests. "I couldn't, because I would die just as much as you would, Fleur. Besides, its all irrelevant anyway, as it's inevitable."

Fleur cocked her eyebrow.

Hermione stared at her, incredulously. "Really? You've got to be kidding me!"

Fleur looked confused.

"Merlin's ass, Fleur! I am going to ask Apollene if we were switched at birth..._really,_ Fleur? Have you not seen the yellow thread _connecting us_ since we laid down in your bed earlier tonight?"

The look of shock that swept across Fleur's face was priceless. Her eyes traced the thin glowing thread that connected Hermione heart to her own. A dazed smile snuck across Fleur's face, and she flopped down, hugging Hermione, tightly.

She continued to grip her, as Hermione rubbed her back, comforting her, feeling the tiny sobs rack her body. "Fleur, darling..."

Fleur raised up, hovering over the younger professor again, interrupting. "Oh, ma belle...we 'ave bonded!" She wiped the tears from her eyes. "You ...love me, 'ermione!"

"Well, of course I do, silly! What do you _think_ I'm doing here, naked on your bed, waiting for you to_ take_ me?"

Fleur licked her lips. "Zat doesn't necessarily mean love...doesn't mean bonding..."

It was Hermione's turn to look serious. "It _does_ to **me,** Fleur. I wouldn't share myself, in this way, if it ...didn't."

Fleur nuzzled the side of her neck with her lips. "Zen let's get to it...let's continue to..._share._"

Hermione laughed, a teasing, happy laugh. "Oh, Fleur, you're impossible! You know that?" She stroked the back of her head, continuing to run her fingers through her soft blonde tresses.

The Golden Girl whispered into her ear, "But, Fleur, I know what this means. I know _exactly_ what this means."

"...And that is?" Fleur murmured against her neck.

Hermione took a breath. "Fleur, please! You've all but **dared** me to not love you, since the minute we met!" She gripped Fleur's hair, tightly, and pulled her head up out of her neck. She forced the Veela to look at her, head up.

Hermione, having Fleur's undivided attention, spoke with conviction.

"I know what it means, for a Veela to bond with its mate, Fleur. I know the expectation, I _know_ what it means for you. However, I want you to know that even though I'm not a Veela, I feel all those things just as deeply as you, Fleur...rest assured! What this means...is...well. It means that, after tonight, I'm _yours_, Fleur. And you're mine..."

Fleur nodded.

"...for good."

**TBC.**


	9. Lies My Mother Told Me

**Tell Me Your Secrets**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...

**A/N:** A little bit of NSFW and a hint at the Summary events - we're getting closer to that fire whiskey moment for these two.

**Chapter 9. Lies My Mother Told Me**

They were the ying, they were the yang.

Fleur was the question, and Hermione was the answer.

They completed one another.

It was so obvious, as they touched each other in the most intimate of ways, it seemed impossible they hadn't seen it, before.

The Golden string pulsed bright, when Fleur finally entered Hermione.

Earlier, Fleur had delighted in tormenting the younger witch, having circled her opening with her fingers, and teasing her clit with her tongue until it was as hard as a walnut ...for nearly_ fifteen minutes_. Finally, Hermione threatened to pull all of Fleur's hair out of her head if she didn't get on with it. Fleur chuckled, raising her head from between Hermione's legs. She rose up, to allow her body to hover over Hermione's; she gave her a gentle kiss, leaning to the side, to allow her access with her right arm.

She then thrust, forcefully, with three fingers, into Hermione's wet opening, as it pulsed around her fingers.

Hermione's eyes slammed shut, and her back arched off the bed.

"**Fuck**! Oh my God…." She uttered. "Ohhhh…"

She lost the ability to speak, as Fleur pulled out, and relentlessly thrust back in.

Hermione was so wet; Fleur didn't bother with the formality of going slow. Grinding her fingers, in and out of the Golden Girl, Fleur was gritting her teeth in a decidedly non-fleuresque manner; as she felt Hermione's walls begin to vibrate, and tighten, the blonde let a salacious expression cross her face. She was in absolute awe of Hermione's pleasure, and the fact she was the one providing her that pleasure.

It was amazing, to her.

As Hermione clenched inside, Fleur curled her fingers, just so….grazing the rough part of the inside of Hermione that caused her pelvis to absolutely spasm, with each thrust. Fleur's thumb pressed down on the hard bead at the hood of Hermione's entrance, causing her to buck and writhe further.

Fleur's head was nuzzling into the side of Hermione's neck, sucking her, and biting her, hard …as she cried out, in her final moment, and she climaxed.

She released a gush of fluid into Fleur's hand, as Fleur continued to stroke the inside of Hermione's sensitive vagina with long, steady strokes.

Hermione's body continued to spasm, as Fleur milked every last drop of the orgasm out of her mate. Fleur murmured soft, gentle words, into Hermione, as the younger girl trembled, turning inward to clutch Fleur for dear life.

"Oh my God…I've never…oh, Fleur, I've _never_ felt anything like that, before…I just…"

"_Shhhhh._" Fleur murmured, reassuringly. "Itz okay, 'ermione. I have you." She was softly stroking her hair, and the smaller woman curled into Fleur, clutching her. They held each other, silently. Fleur daydreamed to herself, wishing she could go back in time and reassure her seventeen year old self...the one who was such a hot mess, brimming with hormones after spotting Hermione for the first time, that it would work out in the end. That as a grown woman, after the horrors of war, failed marriages, failed careers...she would finally find her happy ending.

Ironically, her happy ending would arrive in the bowels of Hogwarts, where it had all started for her in the first place.

Her seventeen year old self would probably react to that fact like a typical teenager, Fleur mused, but...her grown up self finally smiled, amused by the serendipity of it all. Hermione's breathing was so even, Fleur was sure she had dozed off. After a moment, she disproved that theory, popping her head up, looking quite dazed and grinning in the goofiest manner. She looked into the eyes into the Cerulean Blues of her lover.

"Well...I'm sorry, Fleur. I seemed to have made quite a mess."

"Itz okay, ma belle." Fleur shrugged. "We're even. I _bit_ you, a little harder zan I sought, originally. In fact, you are, um…_bleeding_ a little." Fleur looked sheepish. " A lot, actually. I zink I may 'ave to cast a 'ealing spell, tout suite. I'm sorry…"

Fleur went to reach for her wand, to correct the wound from her "act of passion" on Hermione's neck, only to have her arm slammed down on the bed.

"Leave it." Commanded the brunette. "I _like_ it, Fleur."

Fleur looked down at Hermione, surprised. The dark look on her face caused Fleur's nipples to harden, suddenly. In that moment, Hermione Granger managed to arouse Fleur, even more than she already was, if that was even possible.

"Now...let's see." Hermione made a 'come hither' motion. "La bas, ici, Fleur. We have some…unfinished business, to address."

Fleur grinned.

As Fleur slid closer to Hermione, the Golden Girl realized she -perhaps- spoke with too much Gryffindor bravissimo, and she panicked. She realized she had no idea what the hell to do in the bedroom with anyone, much less one of the female persuasion.

"Fleur..." She cleared her throat. "I've never done this before."

Fleur calmly reassured her lover when she expressed concern regarding her sexual inexperience. The Frenchwoman gently advised her, sagely, to just try to do the same thing on her, for now, that she had just had done to herself.

"Clearly, it worked." Offered Fleur, waggling her eyebrows.

Nodding, the Golden Girl blushed. "That it did!" Hermione hummed. "Fleur, is it bad that I _can't wait_ to just...** jam** my fingers in you?"

"Non!" Fleur laughed. "You wouldn't believe ze _sinful_ zings zat ran through my head earlier, az I violated your body. I _get_ it."

"Of course you do..." grinned Hermione, offering her lover a very chaste peck on the lips.

That was the end of the innocent kisses offered by Mademoiselle Granger, of course. After all, when she commits to something, she _really_ commits to it. Her novice lips began to explore the body of the Goddess she inexplicably inherited, with a newfound passion; she was determined to feel and taste every inch of her unbelievably amazing bounty.

_My mate._ Hermione acknowledged quietly, to herself.

Unfortunately, Hermione wouldn't get her expressed desire of experiencing Fleur's climax in a tactile manner, using her fingers; it would turn out. Fleur was **so** utterly aroused, that Hermione's _mere exploration_ with her tongue threw the French witch over the edge, resulting in a startling and thunderous climax.

Fleur apologized, profusely. Hermione merely laughed.

The same result occurred, during Fleur's _second_ orgasm, as well. The Beauxbaton alum lasted slightly longer on the second time, but only minimally so. When Hermione's tongue penetrated her entrance, thrusting inside deep into Fleur's opening, and rimming it... Fleur _lost it, _ again.

As she came down from her high, she exclaimed in disgust, "**Merde**! I 'ave _never_ been zis eazy!" She huffed, embarrassed. "I'm like a twelve year old boy!"

"Fleur, it's okay..." insisted Hermione, with a grin, wiping Fleur's arousal off her face that had drenched her mouth and chin. "I'll get my chance to use my hands, I'm sure, at some point. Really! I'm not complaining, dear."

And Hermione finally did, later that evening...during Fleur's _fifth_ orgasam.

**XOXOXOX**

Despite their clearly changed relationship, Fleur and Hermione refused to compromise on a few things. One thing was in regards to the Friday Beverage Night schedule; after all, they were friends, first, long before they were lovers. F.N.B. was non-negotiable, and they forced themselves out of the bed on Fridays to talk to one another.

The second thing was a _new_ tradition instituted unilaterally by the Golden Girl, champion of the underserved and misunderstood.

To Fleur's chagrin, Hermione required that Sunday afternoons were her time to spend with Fleur's_ Veela._ Regardless of how busy they were, what the work demands became, Sundays were non-negotiable. Initially, Hermione claimed it was to help her lose her fear of flying- the Veela was an excellent teacher, and very patient with Hermione's panic.

So, dutifully, Fleur would transform every Sunday, allowing her delighted Veela to spend the afternoon with the woman **it** loved as well—just as much as its human counterpart did.

Fleur-the-Veela took the flying duties seriously. It delighted at Hermione gripping on for dear life, initially, then less so, as she grew more proficient in flying. After a mere two weeks, she stopped throwing up. On the fourth week, she was able to master "Nap of the Earth" flight with Fleur-the-Veela, for the first time.

On the Veela's end, it branched out, somewhat as well. Hermione would bring a range of greens—Fleur-the-Veela discovered a personal liking for Cilantro and Kale equilivant to French Endive and Asian Ginger Root. It was a fortunate discovery, as the latter were very difficult to obtain in Britain, especially during the winter months. The Veela confirmed a hatred of red peppers, and promptly regurgitated them onto Hermione's shoes, much to her disgust.

Fleur-the-Veela considered it payback for all the times Hermione threw up on_ her_ feathers.

Mostly, they grew comfortable with one another, and Hermione grew more proficient with her French. Oddly, she was too intimidated to speak Fleur's native tongue with her while in her human form; but not to Fleur-the-Veela. Oddly enough, the fierce Veela seemed more tolerant of Hermione's self-perceived imperfections, to Hermione's mind.

Ridiculous, of course, as Hermione knew they were one and they same beings; Fleur as a human, Fleur as a Veela.

Yet, they felt very different to Hermione, however. Although it had been somewhat of a pretense, in the beginning, this request to fly; Hermione had little to no interest in it, truth be told. It was merely a vehicle for Hermione to force Fleur to become more comfortable with the creature side of her, at first. Now, however, it was something precious to her; a cherished time together neither Hermione nor the Fleur-the-Veela would sacrifice, for anything.

The Veela preferred Hermione take care of her molt, rather than human Fleur, for example.

It was on one such session, when Hermione patiently tended to the Veela's tail feathers, a discovery was made. Hermione was gently plucking the old feathers from the base of her tail wing. She gently plucked six feathers to allow for the new growth; and the human held on to the six feathers as instructed by the Veela. She did more than that, actually, she treated them as though they were precious gold, which did not escape the watchful eye of the Veela. She then reached into her beaded bag.

_I've been doing some reading, Fleur, and I think this would help the site of your skin where you lost the feathers_. She communicated to the Veela in their telepathic manner.

_What its it, my little detective?_

_Well,_ Hermione continued, as she reached into the beaded bag and retrieve a small vial, _This is essence of vitamin E oil. It works for humans when they have something called "folliculitis" – an irritation in the hair shaft. I read that birds have an even larger requirement for Vitamin E, and your metabolism consumes it faster. Would you like to try a small rub and see if it helps?_

_Yes, please! My skin always burns when the feathers come out – Normally, I partially transform back to human and have human Fleur pull them out – but she's so rough!_ The fierce Veela looked almost vulnerable, for a brief moment. _The skin hurts, for weeks. I'm willing to try anything._

Hermione laughed, as she gingerly rubbed in the oil, and heard the purring.

_Your purr is different than Human Fleur's purr, did you know that?_

_Different glottis, different vocal cords. You humans do everything on such a small scale._

_Really?_ Grinned Hermione. _Then why is human Fleur's purr…**louder** than yours?_

_What?_ The Veela was indignant. _That wimpy little blonde? Impossible!_

It was hard to be too enraged when the gentle ministrations of the Golden Girl's hands felt so damn soothing on her backside. The Veela continued to purr. _If I weren't afraid you'd stop rubbing me, I'd pin you down and show you a real purr, little girl!_

Hermione laughed. _Well, I suppose my eardrum thanks you, then, for small kindnesses, Fleur. I think I'm about— _She trailed off.

The Veela looked down at the much smaller girl. _What, Hermione? Did something happen?_

Hermione looked up at the Veela, brows furrowed. _Fleur? I….um. Well, I'm not sure how to say this, exactly. I…I guess I'm just surprised, really…I mean…_

The Veela craned its neck around, red eyes regarding the brunette. _What is it, Hermione?_

Hermione raised up her hands, as she gestured emphatically. _I mean, there's nothing wrong with it…I just didn't expect…_

_**What?**_

_Fleur, you appear to be a….um. Well, a male….for lack of a better term..._

_Yes, Hermione, that is what happens with Veela who humans mate with other females. Procreation has to happen, somehow, right?_

Hermione's eyes grew large. _But…but…Fleur! I….well, I haven't shied away from anything we've done, of course…but…_ She gestured downward, towards the Veela's enlarged member.

Fleur-the-Veela's eyes were a little sad.

Hermione looked apologetic. _It's just that you're, uh, ridiculously large, Fleur. I'm not sure that I could…_

Fleur's talons were scraping into the dirt, nervously. _You don't have to, Hermione. It's not expected of you. A human has never mated with a Veela while in their Veela form; only Veela with Veela._

Hermione tried to keep her expression neutral. _Oh. Why is that, out of curiosity?_

Fleur continued to scratch the ground. _You, curious? Never!_ After Hermione's perfunctory giggle, the Veela continued. _It's because Veela tend to be a little….passionate, with their lovemaking. They scrape, they claw, and they bite and peck each other. The dominant one will try to mark its mate. It is a very primitive urge, one that is inevitable, I'm told. The few times that it has been tried, the Veela killed its human mate. So, it is forbidden, in the Veela culture, as a result._

Hermione's expression grew dark. _So, you're telling me, we can never have children?_

The Veela looked at Hermione sadly. _Oh, you and human Fleur can have children – you can adopt, you can get a donor – any number of things. Even if human Fleur carries a child, however, it will never be regarded as her true Veela offspring, however, by the Clan…or by me. And it wouldn't survive._

_Why?_ Hermione asked, simply.

Fleur bowed its crown. _Because my primitive nature wouldn't allow it – I would kill the child._

The Veela, clearly in distress, began to spread its wings to fly away.

_Wait! Fleur, stop!_ Hermione said, angry. _You don't always get to run away, damn you!_ She gripped her upper tail coverts, refusing to let her fly away.

She walked around to the front of the Veela, gently petting her, on her bowed head. Hermione continued stroking her face at the dorsum of her beak until she soothed, and spoke out loud, for the first time.

"Don't worry. There is a solution to this, that someone hasn't thought of yet…I'm sure of it."

_No, Hermione, there isn't. We are an ancient and a proud race – we have existed longer than humans._

"You doubt me, my intellect, my ability to research, Fleur? Really?"

The Veela chuckled. _I would never dare to do that._

"Good, then. Would you mind changing back into your," Hermione gestured with air quotes, _"Inferior human form_, then, so we can head back? It's almost time for dinner in the Great Hall. Minerva will have our assess if we're late again."

_As you wish, my mate._

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Fleur could see the wheels turning in her brilliant mate's mind. Fleur felt like she had to address the elephant in the room, before they got back to the castle.

"Look…it iz what it iz, 'ermione."

"But, Fleur! You... you're like royalty, practically! You're next in line...you can't give up, on an heir!"

Fleur laughed bitterly. "_C'est la vie_. I cannot produce an offspring, 'ermione. We will 'ave children, if you wish; you will 'ave to carry zem. "

"But they would not be considered an heir to carry on your family line, Fleur!"

"Well…no. But zat iz…" Fleur waived her hands in the air. "…Irrelevant, to me. Ze only zing zat matters, to me, iz **you.** Us."

"While that is perhaps the sweetest, most romantic sentiment I have ever been given, Fleur... I'm sorry. I don't accept it. I _don't accept_ that there is not a solution, somehow." Hermione said, determined, as they finally arrived at the Great Hall.

Fleur's eyes were sad, despite her laugh. "Well, I suppoze anyzing iz possible, wiz you, 'ermione. I mean, look at your crazy language skills!"

Hermione looked confused. "What, you mean my French? I'm still not all that proficient, Fleur."

Fleur opened the heavy entrance door to the Hall for her mate, gallantly, ushering her in. As they walked to the Head Table together, the usual dozens of eyes following them were omnipresent as they made their way to the front, together. Fleur gently guided them towards their seats at the head table, her hand in the small of Hermione's back.

Fleur whispered back her response. "No, ma belle. I meant your_ Veela_ skills."

"What Veela skills?" Hermione hissed back.

Fleur looked at Hermione, incredulously. "Vous plasnetez…"

Hermione looked at her blankly.

"Well, 'ermione….what do you _think_ you've been doing, with my Veela form, all these Sundays? You've been talking—quite well, I might add—to my other self in the _secret language_ of the Veela!"

The Transfiguration professor abruptly stopped walking, nearly causing both Fleur and Hermione to trip at the base of the stairs of their table. She wheeled her head around, staring at Fleur, her mouth agape. Fleur looked at Hermione, the latter realizing the French witch was completely serious. Minerva raised her eyebrows, inquisitively, watching her two junior facility closely.

For the first time, Hermione was literally speechless.

**TBC**

Reviews are love, and have been scientifically proven to expedite updates. Just sayin'...


	10. The Good Lie

**Tell Me Your Secrets**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...

**A/N:** A little bit of NSFW . Readers, meet the fire whiskey moment for these two. Kinks abound.

**Chapter 10. The Good Lie**

It was on one of their Friday night "beverage nights" that they threw out the butter beer and the merlot, altogether, and opted instead for a vintage Firewhiskey that had been gifted to the new couple from Rosemerta, earlier in the night.

As fate would have it, Rosemerta had many skills. Oddly enough, she also doubled as a wizard Justice of the Peace equivalent, and the day Hermione's divorce was final, the two storied witches decided they would embrace legal rights and tie the knot. However, anything that would involve the two of them, in a public setting would be nothing short of a circus.

So without pomp and circumstance, without their parents, their friends, the Clan, the Ministry...Hermione Jean Granger and Fleur Isabelle Delacour got married in the moonlight, after the last patron left the Three Broomsticks. Rosemerta presided over the ceremony, and even cried. She also served as the only guest.

Patting Hermione on the shoulder, she offered, "Kid, I think you got it right, finally." She gave her a warm smile. She turned to Fleur, and the smile wiped off her face. She raised a finger, to Fleur's nose.

"Listen up, Blondie. I have known this child since she was 11 and the most gangly, awkward thing you ever saw! Needless to say, I think of her as practically my own...though I can't take any credit for her incredible greatness...I can do one thing." She started to make shredding motions with her hands. "If you so much as make her cry, unfairly, ever...Frenchy Delacour, so help me Merlin, I will rip you from limb to limb, you hear me? I don't care if you are some supernatural creature...I will hunt you down, throw garlic at you, whatever it takes!"

Hermione looked on, with horror, agast. She nervously looked to her new wife, who had an unreadable expression.

Then her face erupted in pearls of laughter.

"Throw garlic at me? Ta Gueule, you are killing me!"

Rosemerta was cracking up, as well, "Shit, it's the best I could do, on short notice. C'mere, Fleur..." she pulled the blonde into a warm hug, patting her on the back. "Be good to her, though...I mean it."

"You'll never 'ave to worry, Rosemerta."

"I know, Frenchy, I know."

She pulled out of the embrace, grabbing her quill to finalize their marriage certificate. Scrolling through all, and writing furiously, Rosemerta did the administrative muckety-muck, asking them several questions, such as addresses, mother and fathers names, and such..until she arrived at the final one.

"Okay, so what will the names be? Same ones?"

Fleur and Hermione looked at each other, startled.

"Uh...mais alors, we didn't exactly zink about..."

"Delacour-Granger." Hermione cut in, after observing Fleur, closely. We're the Delacour-Grangers, Rosemerta," Hermione interrupted firmly.

She looked at Fleur, who had a lazy smile drifting across her face. She grabbed Hermione's hand.

"Ma belle," she whispered, "I...'ow did you know, zat zat was important to me?"

Hermione tugged on their Golden string, that tethered their hearts together. The cord that only they could see.

"You're not the only one that's plugged into this thing, Fleur, dear."

**XOXOXOXOXXO**

It was beverage night. As they became increasingly drunk, Fleur couldn't resist.

"Okay, tell me one zing, dearest wife, about you zat no one else knows...not even me."

Hermione furrowed her brows, thinking. She bit her lip, pensivly. Fleur gazed at her, going from the femme fatale that the whole world saw, to a whipped puppy with just that simple gesture. Her heart swelled in her chest, and she wondered if Hermione ever realized the depth to which she owned Fleur Delacour.

Hermione clearing her throat brought her out of her revere.

"I...I pierced my own ears, when I was in the 5th grade. I didn't have any friends to do it with me, and my parents wouldn't let me do it until I turned 13 years old."

Fleur chuckled, slurring her words just a little bit. "Baby, you'll never be alone anymore...oui? But, peut-etre, I must ask: how did zey turn out, and 'ow did you do it, being a muggle?"

Hermione shrugged. "I looked it up- researched it ahead of time. Bought hypoallergenic earrings for the studs, and then iced my earlobes until I couldn't feel them. I used the Iodine-Povidine from my parent's office, and then...went for it! Just jammed 'em in..." she chuckled.

She looked at Fleur pointidly. "I like to...jam things in, I guess."

"Zat you do, Mrs. Delacour-Granger." Agreed Fleur, pouring them another shot, leading them on their merry path to intoxication. They toasted, once again, to themselves, slamming down their glasses with a giggle. Hermione winced, visibly, after hitting the shot, and coughed.

She groused, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're trying to get me drunk, Wifely."

Fleur waggled her eyebrows, and grinned.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Okay, show and tell for the hot blonde in the corner...the tipsy one," she proclaimed, gesturing in her wife's general direction. "So, Fleur, tell me something. Something no one knows about _you._"

"Well, hmmmmm. Let's see...oh! I know! So, did you know...I'm a Veela..."

Hermione threw a bread roll at her head. "No, doof! I'm serious."

Fleur thought, for a moment. "Well, it iz known by only one ozzer..."

Hermione made a theatrical sigh. "Oh, the curse of being so beautiful and famous - everyone knows everything about you. We have to lower the bar, for your secrets, ay?"

Fleur shrugged, nursing the firewhiskey, neat. "I taught Gaby how to kiss..."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, insolently, as if to say, "So what?"

Fleur mirrored her expression. "...a lot."

"No judgements here, Fleur, but please tell me she was older than 8 years old, for Merlin's sake!"

Fleur nodded.

Hermione cocked her head. "Um. Is there more to that, that you wish to tell me?"

Fleur shook her head, no. Hermione looked skeptical, and Fleur huffed. "I'm telling ze trutz, 'ermione!" Her face was flushing. "I mean, it'z not like zat love story you keep making us watch on your muggle contracption over and over about ze sisters who are in love wiz each ozzer!"

Hermione shook her head. _"What the hell_ are you talking about, Fleur?"

They were officially drunk, now.

Fleur gestured, abstractly. "Zat muggle device, where zey talk and..it's like a pensive..."

"Oh! The Television!" She snorted, laughing. Contemplating what programming Fleur could be referencing, she realized. Then her eyes went wide. "You're not talking about Frozen, for Gods Sakes, are you?"

"Ze one wiz ze hot blonde wiz ze ice powers?"

Hermone fell down laughing. "Oh, bloody hell, Fleur! That's not a love story! It's a children's cartoon! They're not "in love" with each other, goof!"

Fleur looked annoyed. "Shuuuuuuure zey arn't! Ze second movie will 'ave zem in bed, feeding each ozzer croissants after zey fucked all night...you just wait, you'll see."

Hermione laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Oh, my sides! They ache!" She said, clutching them, tightly. " How did we get on this ludicraous topic, anyway?"

Fleur folded her arms across h er chest. "You brought it up."

"Well, for that, I should be punished. Pour me another, your royal veela hotness." She raised her glass towards Fleur. Fleur obliged her, and her eyes twinkled.

"Oh, no!" Hermoine said, recognizing the look.

"Wait, wait! I 'ave anozzer question, 'ermione."

"If it's 'why haven't I fed you croissants in the morning', I have no explaination. Apparantely, it's a ..._thing_. But maybe only between sisters..."

She started up with her drunken laughter, again.

Fleur was at her, pouncing, looking for all intents as though she was going to tickle assault her, again. The intent caused a squeal from Hermione. "Stop, Fleur!"

"Or what?" She said, flexing her fingers with an evil grin.

"Or...I don't know, I'll call for Minerva?"

Fleur guffawed. "Sorry...um, NO. She won't be able to prevent me from taking anyzing I desire from my mate, 'ermione."

Hermione gave some drunken reflection to the statement, realizing Fleur was probably accurate."Okay, then! I'll call ...hmm..."

The list was embarrassingly paltry when it came to someone willing to stand between Fleur, and what she wanted From Hermione. Pondering, she snapped her fingers at last. "I know! I will call my ...we, our...I mean, your _Veela!_"

"_What?"_

Hermione gave Fleur a bratty look. "Your Veela! P.S. The one who likes me better than you, FYI."

"débile! You are aware, Mrs. Delacour-Granger, zat we are one and ze same? Ze Veela, and moi? Zat zat iz une idea...ridicioulous?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nope. I don't think so, my little cabbage. Likes me best!"

The blonde's face emoted something indecipherable...A strange look of longing that Hermione had not seen since their school days.

"Fleur?" Hermione asked, quickly sobering. "Is something the matter, dear?"

"Non...iz nozzing...I just do not know of any mate pairs, where one iz a human... And 'as such a good relationship with ze Veela...as you! It just makes me a little sad, actually."

The brunette quickly crossed the room, closing the distance between the two. "Why so sad, baby?" She offered consolingly as she lowered herself down onto Fleur's lap to perch. Hermione draped her arms around the blonde's neck, and looked into her eyes meaningfully.

"Tell me ... What's got my beautiful girl so sad?" She moved closer to Fleur, as she gave her a hug. She whispered into her ear, "Tell me, Fleur.._.tell me your secrets_."

"Non...you tell me first, my little minx!" Fleur's hand was roaming rather wantonly down Hermione's backside. "Tell me one of yours , first."

"Hm...okay...where should I start?" She pretended to be thinking hard, tapping her finger to her temple, and mock pensiveness. "There's just so many things - such a wide repertoire-that one could choose from..."

"**Desire**." Fleur cut in, deadly serious. "Tell me one of your deepest, darkest desires that you've never told anyone else."

Hermione regarded her spouse, shocked. From the sudden flush on her face, as well as the pick up of her heart rate that she detected with her Veela senses, she knew she had hit upon something.

In a silky voice, she practically purred the prompt. "Well, little girl? What iz it?"

"I...uh, well, um. Fleur, there is something, actually, that I ...I've always wanted to try, but I've always been too embarrassed to bring it up . I...and I knew Ron would find it aabhorrent so I never brought it up with him... It's just I've always had this innate ...a curiosity about..."

Fleur herself and suddenly sobered up. "Tell me. But what, Hermione?" Fleurs eyes were earnest. "You know zat I would never judge you ...you know that."

Hermione looked slightly mortified, regardless.

"I am absolutely 100% serious, Hermione. Ma belle, Look: I am French, and a Veela! Merlins knee, nozzing shocks me, in ze bedroom!"

Hermione realized that was probably true; and she wasn't sure how she felt about it.

"Out wiz it!" Said the blonde. "I don't 'ave all night!" As she winked at Hermione.

"Uh...I know the psychology of where this comes from,"the Englishwoman said, stammering. She turned as red as a beet she continued rambling. "I mean, it's because my parents were so cold, so did stant, early; and very impersonal. My mother was a dentist, my father was a dentist, and they were just ...very clinical and matter-of-fact, all the time..."

Fleur said "mm-hm," patiently. "And..?" She encouraged, with a gracious smile.

"Well...it's just... I'm deathly afraid you'll find me terribly strange..."

Fleur snorted. "I already do, so you've nozzing to worry about! So you might az well spit it out, and tell me."

"Oh look, just forget it."

Fleur wrapped her arms around the suddenly reticent witch. "Look , I promise you...you're safe, wiz me. Would it 'elp I if told you what I _wouldn't_ do? Zings zat I am-how you say-not _comfortable_ wiz?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes," she said quietly. "You're very ...intuitive , Fleur."

She shrugged. "Meh! I'm Veela." She offered, by way of explanation. "Alors...okay, zen...well. I am _not_ comfortable with cruel bondage, or urine and fecal matter. I'm not okay with _being mean_ to one annozer. "

"It's not... It's not any of those things..."

The beautiful Frenchwoman's eyes darkened, noticeably. "...and above all -above everyzing else- I _refuse_ to ever 'ave anozer participant in our bed. I _refuse_ to zink it okay for _anybody_ else to touch you, 'ermione...**ever**."

She spoke with such a gravity it made The room chill, noticeable to both women.

"Well," Hermione said, after a moment of startled silence, "I guess it's a good thing it's not any of those things, at all."

Fleur held her mate, close to her own body. "Dearest 'ermione, I believe it waz _you_ not too long ago, zat recommended to me to just 'go for it.' You said, 'it's like jumping off a bridge. You just need to do it.' So? Tell me your secrets...I promise you zis, Ma belle, if it iz wizin my powers, I will make it happen. I promise."

Hermione was doing her best not to tear up_. How did I luck into marrying the most beautiful woman alive...who also happens to be the most compassionate being, as well? _She wondered, adoringly_. Goofy ol' me...how did I find someone so absolutely perfect for me? _

The young witch spoke, finally, empowered with the bravery befitting the prototypical Gryffindor. " I have always been curious, really, as long as I can remember...about participation in an _adult nursing relationship.."_

Fleur arched her eyebrows. "I 'ave to say, you have me stymied! Zis zing..what might zat be?

"What is it? Well, I'll tell you what it is _not_ ...its not so much a _sexual kink, _really," she explained. "An ANR is really about _intimacy. _ I suppose it's about having a closeness with another person, in a way you cannot imagine..." Her voice trailed off.

"Okay," Fleur said slowly. "But ...what **iz **it, 'ermione? I mean, 'ow do you **do** it? 'Ow do we do zis?"

"I'm no expert, but I think you would latch onto my breasts, and suck on me...probably 3 to 5 times a day, at regular intervals; and then as we go to sleep at night...preferably after sex, of course."

"Oh! Mais oui...like a baby!"

Hermione frowned. "No, nothing like a baby!" She had a thinly disguised coat of irritation to her voice. "It's not about _nutrition_, Fleur. Its about being intimate with your partner! Its about closeness."

"Of course. Forgive me. So, 'ow does one start such a zing?"

"Thank you, Fleur. So, in the beginning, it's very difficult, actually. This is where most couples struggle. To cause one to lactate who has not given birth ican be very challenging ...but it can be done."

"By doing what?"

"So, there are some medicines that one can take, that stimulate lactation. I'd rather not though...I don't agree with it. It be like us using magic to jumpstart lactation, like wizards do in real life. That's not what I want however. I want to be authentic. I want the most tried and true way, which is just ..,frequent sucking in the beginning. Simple, really! I think sometimes every hour, even around-the-clock, at first."

Fleur nodded. "Zut! _Of course_ you make it as difficult as possible! You 'ave to be an over achiever, even in ze arena of _sexual fantasy_, don't you?"

Hermione swatted Fleur, good-naturedly. "_Do you mean to tell me, Ms. _predatory primitive one, that it _doesn't_ appeal to you, the idea of your lips stimulating me so? _Your actions_ being the ones that induce a fundamental change in my body? A change that's only for you...one that you reap the results of?"

Fleur's eyes were darkening, and her breathing was becoming more labored.

Hermione leaned forward, seductively whispering into her spouse's ear, "do you really Think you would be satisfied, any other way? Are you telling me that you would _want_ to take a shortcut?"

Fleur licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry.

"Or, Fleur, would you rather know that you _caused_ me to do this...to lactate? You sucked my breasts, you laved my nipples, you took me in your mouth -over and over and over again - until you finally got the result you wanted? Wouldn't you want to know that _you_ caused my body to lactate, just for you?"

Fleur was now _sweating._

_"_Don't you want that moment when, one day, you were ultimately successful, and you suckled me, and finally drank me up_?"_

Fleur's eyeswere now completely red. She stood up, abruptly, causing Hermione to tumble to the floor beneath them.

Without a word, the blonde stalked off.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, confused, as she watched the blonde exit their living room.

In a gravelly voice, clearly located in another room, Fleur yelled, _"_Fuck_, where do you zink_? I'm in ze damn bedroom!" Fleur growled, and ordered, "Take your shirt off, **now**, and get your ass in here!"

The Golden Girl stood up, shock creeping across her face. When realization finally registered, she turned to head in the direction of their bedroom. As she pulled off her blouse over her head while walking, she allowed herself to smile.

**XOXOXO**

They had just finished their first attempt, and Hermione looked at the blonde that was now simply resting on her breast.

"Fleur?" She asked, quietly.

"Mmmmm?" Murmered the contented witch, close to dozing off..

"We kind of got sidetracked, you know. We never really got a chance to discuss you yet! Do you, you know, um, have a ...kink? A fantasy?"

Fleur raised up, propping her head on her wrist, looking at Hermione.

"I 'ave _many_, actually...when it comes to you."

"Why am I not surprised?" They both chuckled. "Can you narrow it down?What's your number one?"

Fleur bit her lip, nervously.

"Zat is eazy, 'ermione. I want to _fuck_ you...transformed, as my Veela self. **Hard**."

**TBC.**


	11. The Awful Truth

**Tell Me Your Secrets**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...

**A/N:** A little bit of NSFW

**Chapter 10. The Awful Truth.**

Hermione got up, from their bed, and with the light from a small lantern next to her desk, she unfurled her prolific notes, and resumed her research, sighing. Tomorrow, in her free period, she would continue her experiment, in which she transfigured a matchbook and a salt shaker into a miniature human and a miniature Veela, attempting to copulate using the spells she had catalogued in the reproductive arts, after consultation with Madame Pomphrey.

She already had 11 failed experiments. The first few resulted in the Veela, as in real life, essentially bludgeoning the human to death; after she corrected for that by taming the Veela first, the two species appeared to be too different in their reproductive genome to actually have the Veela sperm fertilize the human egg. That is, of course, after she extracted the Veela sperm from the gonads and tried in-vitro fertilization: allowing things to happen "naturally" resulted in the human sustaining perineal tears.

The Veela was just _too large_ for the human to handle, realistically.

That fact had not escaped the smartest witch of her era. However, she was Hermione Delacour-Granger, and she considered this merely a speed bump. She was becoming quite adept at augmented reproduction, in fact. So far, she had indexed the two genomes, using her blood and Fleur's blood, and thought she had figured out a way to crack the code.

She sighed.

Hopefully, tomorrow's experiments would result in a breakthrough.

She looked over to Fleur, laying in their bed, who was completely dead to the world, and she sighed again. She _owed_ it to Fleur; she knew what was riding on this. Simply because Fleur loved _her,_ Hermione the muggle born _human_, the leadership and rule of the most powerful Veela Clan in Europe would pass from the Delacour's hand to someone...far less deserving.

She grimaced in remembrance...

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

_Flashback: Four 1/2 Years Prior_

Hermione and Apollene gave each other an unspoken look of solidarity before they entered the highly secure hospital suite. After their top secret clearance was vetted, they were allowed entrance into the room, where a single female lay in a bed, barely alive. Wrapped in bandages, with IV fluids and multiple mediwitches tending to her, Apollene let out a small gasp.

The patient turned towards the door. Her eyes widened in fear, until she saw who it was entering.

"Sil vous plait...Agent Granger..." she croaked, lifting up her one hand that was not crushed.

Hermione kept her expression calm, and offered a smile, as she crossed the room, and grasped the young woman's hand. She put everything she had into extending a comforting smile, hoping it worked.

"Hello, Colette."

"Bonsoir, 'ermione."

"I'm sorry, I know you feel out of sorts...but Agent Delacour has a few questions, okay?"

"Will you be 'ere?"

"Of course." Hermione squeezed her hand. "The whole time. I promise."

"D'accord. What is it, Madame Delacour?" The young Veela addressed her with the title of her standing in the Clan, versus her wizarding title of Agent.

The older woman looked at her, then Hermione, nodding. "It iz very lucky zat Agent Granger found you, oui?"

"Oui."

"She saved your life." The older woman said, appeasingly.

"Oui. And nearly died, herself."

Apollene nodded. "Not bad, for a human." The two Veelas exchanged a knowing smile, in solidarity. "Alors ...Mademoiselle, I 'ave to ask...'ow did zis happen? Veela's travel in packs...'ow did zey get you, by yourself?" Apollene asked, sternly.

The battered young woman, a shell of what she used to be, looked up meekly at the fierce matriarch. "I was **not** alone, Madame Delacour."

Apollene looked shocked, and a look passed between her and Agent Granger.

"Who? Who waz with you?"

"The Mendonca sisters, Madame." She said quietly, wincing as she pushed herself up, slightly.

The regal Veela looked shocked. "Morceau de merde!" Apollene muttered, under her breath. "Let me guess...zey abandoned you, and let zat 'orrible man_ take_ you."

The broken woman nodded.

Apollene looked up at Agent Granger. "Well, 'ermione, zat was the _only_ piece of zis I did not understand. I understand 'ow he tortured her once he had her, I just did not understand how he **got** her, in ze first place. Veelas travel in packs, to prevent ambush."

Hermione nodded, grimly.

"I never zought it would be _one of her own,_ who betrayed 'er...not even zem."

She looked down gently, at the battered remains of the broken Veela, who was still trembling. Colette's eyes were darting around, nervously. She clutched Hermione's hand like it was her only lifeline.

"Colette," Hermione began gently, holding her hand firmly. "We need to talk about...your future."

"_I 'ave no future_, Agent Granger."

Hermione Accio'ed a chair to sit by the bedside snd looked sincerely into the younger woman's eyes. She gripped her hand.

"That's not true, Colette!" She said fiercely.

"Zey will find me. I 'ave seen Zem...what zey are capable of. I will end up like Nanette."

Nanette was the sentinel Veela murder, the one that caused the international scandal. She was the one that brought the global sex ring to light, enslaving Veelas of all nationalities, torturing them into submission. The women were forced into becoming sex workers for their kidnappers. It made sense, in a morbid way, to use Veela for this purpose; their thrall allowed their grizzly captors to drive up their "commission" price to nearly unreasonable levels. Poor saps would bankrupt themselves, their families, their businesses... All to have 'just one more night' with the irresistible women.

Nanette was the reason Hermione and Apollene became the unusual partner duo; as Hermione the only Agent in the multi-national collalition tasked that was seemingly immune to Apollene's thrall, it made sense for them to work together. When she asked her why she was immune, the older woman merely shrugged, offering sagely, "I suspect your heart already knows what it wants."

Plus, Apollele was an experienced pro, and she did not tolerate fools lightly.

Hermione was the rare Agent indeed that could work alongside her, _worthy_. The veteran agent formerly known as "The Silver Fox" taught Hermione tirelessly,on a wide range of things that 40 years of experience would offer an Agent in the field...wizarding or Veela. Hands down, Apollene was _impressed_ by the Golden Girl. And so, she had a menthe, outside her own children, that she felt was worthy of teaching for the first time in many years...maybe _ever_. It was a relationship that would continue in the years to come, long after the case was closed.

But now, the wise one was oddly silent. Hermione was perplexed. She looked to Apollene, confused. The Silver Fox was in the unique position to both solve the case _and_ offer the witness shelter. Shelter more impenetrable than any witness protection program could offer.

"But...what about your Clan..?"

Both Apollene and the battered woman shook their heads.

"**No.** I will just be considered damaged goods." Colette said, pained. "I 'ave disgraced the Veela."

Hermione exploded. "T_hrough no fault of your own_, damn it! They...they surely wouldn't blame the victim, right?" Hermione cast her gaze at her Mentor. "Right, Agent Delacour?"

Apollene said quietly, "I fear, even wiz the protections of ze House Delacour behind 'er, ze Mendonca twins will be a _nightmare_..."

Colette grimaced, nodding. "Nathalee et Nicole, zey are..." tears fell from her eyes, and she winced. She looked up at the Silver fox, Madame Apollene. "Zey are _awful_, Madame! If anyone does better zen them, zey so some zing to get rid of Zem, or destroy Zem! Zat is the only reason zey graduated first at Beauxbatons ... Zat, and ze fact zey were never in ze class with Fleur or Gabrielle..."

"What? Why?" Hermione asked. "What do the Delacour girls have to do with it?"

Colette snorted. "Ze only zing zat awful family fears in ze least bit, are Ze _Delacours_. Ze only family more powerful zan zeire own."

Apollene was pensive. Speaking, as though deep in thought, she asked, "Nanette was in zeire year group, oui? At Beauxbatons?"

"_Yes_, Madame." She answered dutifully.

No one said anything, the silence suffocating. Hermione looked at both of them, closely. She was the rare individual, emotionally intelligent as well as academically.

She rubbed Colette's arm, gently, changing the subject. "**So**...no Clan, then. Where in the wizarding world would you like to go, then?"

"_Nowhere_. Zeire is nowhere for me to go, Agent Granger. My thrall will identify me, everywhere, it will only be a matter of time until zey get me."

Hermione's eyes twinkled, fueled by the incandescence of her brilliant mind. "I_ just might_ have a solution for that, Colette! So let me ask you again, if your thrall was not an issue, where in the world would you like to go?"

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Honestly, Fleur could be like a man, in some ways. After Hermione fucked her silly, Fleur would drag herself towards Hermione's tit, and Fleur would latch on, greedily, and suckle her mate, until she fell _dead asleep_. Some nights were more difficult than others to pull her off; so occasionally she would just leave her there, and eventually fall asleep herself.

Then in the morning, she would be completely drained, on one side, and Fleur would have to quickly "even her out," on the other. Gulping her down, the equivalent of "chugging," if there were such a thing, in nursing terminology... in order for them to make it to the Great Hall on time for Minerva's mandatory breakfast appearance by the staff.

Ordinarily, Hermione would often be the first one there. These days, however, she was dictated by her own addictive desires.

For in those mornings, when Fleur was forced to nurse her so quickly, the "letdown" would hit the brunette like a _ton of bricks_. Similar to all women who lactate, it would release oxytocin to her brain...but in these moments, it wasn't the warm and cozy feel of a fleece blanket as most of their nursing sessions were. No, these isolated times were more like what a supposed heroin injection would be like, Hermione imagined.

It was _so good_.._.so addicting_...and she wanted **more**. And the fact that it was Fleur's hungry mouth that was doing it to her, eager to empty Hermone's full breast, only added to her addiction. It would reduce her to nothing but a pleasure craving as she watched Fleur; Fleur's hunger put her mouth on her, Fleur's eager gulps as the milk trickled down the sides of the blonde's lips and Hermione's breast; and listening to Fleur's sated moans while she swallowed.

She wanted it, all the time.

The times Fleur had stayed on her breast, overnight, she apparently sucked with such force, in their sleep, it was as though Hermione's body went into panic mode. Her mammary glands on high alert, going into DEF-CON5 mode and thinking they had someone waiting that was THAT hungry they'd be willing to nurse 8-10 hours straight, caused a physiologic reaction. And her body responded, accordingly. So the breast that Fleur did not nurse from was always engorged.

So there would always be a full breast waiting for Fleur, the next morning, on the one she hadn't latched onto, the night before.

She would take to it, just as addicted as Hermione. She would drink it down, hungry; but it would leave Fleur fully sated, and as a result, she would only pick at the actual food on her breakfast plate subsequently, turning her nose up at the "human food."

Hermione hated to admit it, she did...but the fact of the matter was, she loved the fact Fleur filled up on her. She_ loooooved_ it. She loved, specifically, that she sated Fleur Delacour; she nursed and provided for her in such a manner, that her mate needed nothing else. And so, more often than not, she would make sure Fleur would go "second," during sex, so that she could intentionally put her down, her mouth on Hermione's nipple, latched.

The Gryffindor would watch her, tenderly, while stroking her hair, her neck...all surefire ways to get Fleur to nod off; especially as the warm milk let down, and the familiar comfort of Hermione's milk landed in Fleur's eager mouth.

When the sensation of letdown hit Hermione's brain, not even the unsettled nature of her experiments could make her anxious. It was the only time her my knees magnificent brain wasn't attempting to figure out a solution to this problem.

Because it was a problem, indeed. In those tiny windows of pleasure, it was the only time Hermione had peace; the only time she forgot reality.

The reality that kept her sleepless...

The reality that her human nature would be the reason for transfer of the power from the Delacours to...the Mendoncias.

**TBC**

Reviews= Updates and Love


	12. True Lies

**Tell Me Your Secrets**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...

**A/N:** A little bit of NSFW - this is me, after all. Kinks include lactation and quasi-beastiality? (If you consider Fleur's Veela a beast, I suppose).

**Chapter 12. True Lies.**

Hermione had some rare free time, a speck of a moment between her third and fourth teaching periods. As she typically did, in these moments when the demands of her job, her public fan base, or some eager student wasn't taking advantage of her office hours, Professor Delacour-Granger would attempt another iteration of her experiment. The Professor was growing increasingly frustrated as the days wore on; it was in one of these moments that her mate found her.

"Salut, Madame Delacour – Granger! What iz such a beautiful woman doing wiz such a _stern_ frown upon her gorgeous visage?"

Hermione looked up, barely registering a forced smile. "Oh, hello, Bae!"She said, frustrated. "It's good to see you, actually. I'm getting very frustrated... I could use a study break." She sighed.

_"Dites que ce n'est pas vrai!_ Ze great 'ermione Granger, ze brightest wizard of ze times, requires a... mental break? Mon Dieu! What haz ze world come to?" Fleur said, mirth clearly registering in her blue eyes.

Hermione gave her a death glare. "Oh, Hardiee Har Har, funny French lady! Look, I wouldn't be so lassiez-faire, if I were you..._you know_ what's riding on this succeeding!"

Fleur looked at her, reflectively. "Oui, I do. But I say now what I 'ave always said, 'ermione: at ze end of ze day, it dozzent matter. Ze Delacour family will always 'ave influence. _Who cares_ if I don't 'ave ze title?"

"**I do**!" Hermione shouted, looking at Fleur, furiously.

"Zen you are ze only one in zis room zat does."

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to calm herself, and rubbed her temples. "Fleur..." She said, trying to calm herself.

Eyes closed, she heard her spouse walk closer towards her. Then there was a sudden weight on her lap, and she felt herself being moved in her chair away from her desk. She opened her eyes, to see her smirking mate taking residence on her lap.

"What are you doing, Fleur?"

"I zought zat waz obvious, non?" Fleur's voice no longer sounded like her own. She leaned in, smelling Hermione, deeply, and groaning. Sitting upright again, The blonde former curse-breaker turned quickly, and over her shoulder, fired a series of spells to ward off Hermione's office. They were shot, in rapid-fire succession, but she was fairly certain she heard at least one Muffallato.

_"Fleur._.."

The Beauxbaton's eyes were dark, her expression feral. "I can **smell** you, 'ermione...it makes me _'ungary_. _ So_ 'ungary...I need you to provide me somezing, Mate, somezing from _you._"

Her hand quickly went to the bottom of her Academic robe, untying them, and pulling them above the brunette's head. Before Hermione could even formulate a response, she felt Fleur's hands stroking her body, sliding around the back, and undoing her bra clasp. She had pulled Hermione's bra off before she had even realized it, and hovered over her, nostrils flaring.

She threw the bra on the floor. She then set in on Hermione's neck.

"Fleur..." She gasped, as she felt the skilled tongue run down the right side of her neck, interspersed with tiny nips, as the rabid blonde began biting her neck with teeth that were elongating, slightly.

She shivered, the desire to please her mate overwhelming her...

The blonde's bites were becoming harder, and she began to suck Hermione's neck. Fleur was breathing heavily, her body unusually warm. "Oh, 'ermione...Vous avez créé un encore plus gros monster..." she whispered, reverently, as her lips slid down past her shoulders, towards her sternum. She could feel Fleur's hot breaths, as she kissed her skin, desperately.

Fleur's hand stopped gently stroking her, as she grabbed Hermione's right breast, cupping it firmly. With her other, she pushed the younger woman backwards, to recline slightly in her chair. Straddling Hermione, Fleur looked down on her, intently, as she continued to massage and knead her right breast purposefully. Hermione could feel her center heat, just with the Veela's look alone.

She watched Fleur's eyes turn yet again from their smokey black, to _red._..

"_What 'ave you done to me_, 'ermione?"

"I...I don't ... I don't know what you mean, Fleur" She stammered nervously, trying to focus.

She winced, slightly, as Fleur's grip tightened unexpectedly on her breast. She released it, then cupped it again, kneading it towards the center, where Hermione's nipple had become taut. Fleur squeezed, until a few beads of milk appeared on the surface.

"Really? You've ... no idea? No idea, at all?" She posed, her voice a low growl. Hermione tried to answer, but her eyes closed when she felt Fleur's head lower to her right nipple, her red rough tongue swiping off the beads of milk from the surface of her nipple.

Fleur let out a small moan at the taste.

"I_ crave_ you, 'ermione...I crave **zis**." Fleur's unoccupied other hand began ministering Hermione's left breast, squeezing the nipple to a hardened nub, then expressing a few drops from each nipple, which she started wantonly at, before looking at Hermione directly. "Did you_ know_, 'ermione? Did you _know_ you would make an addict out of me? Turn me into someone so..._desperate_?"

Her tongue darted out between her swollen red lips, and swiped the beads off both nipples, causing Hermione to gasp.

"Oh,** fuck! **Fleur, please...don't tease me..." Hermione uttered, her chest bowing towards the blonde.

With a near snarl, Fleur's hand firmly encased Hermione's right breast. She made no move to relieve the witch underneath her.

"Fleur! I'm _begging_ you...I need you! I need your mouth, on me...please!" Her right hand was gripping her armrest so hard, her knuckles were white. Her left hand flew up, in a desperate bid to grasp the Platinum Blonde hair, trying to force her head down where she needed it.

Fleur bucked. "**Non!**" She thrust her pelvis into Hermione's core. "_Tell me_...did you know zis would happen? I cannot function, 'ermione...do you know 'ow often I_ crave_ your taste throughout ze day? 'ow much I cannot stand ze taste of anyzing, ozzer zan_ la lait_ of my mate? Everyzing else, makes me nauseous, 'ermione..._did you know zat_?"

She glared at Hermione, darkly.

"My mind, my body...it rejects everyzing else. Ze only zing I can stand to taste, anymore, is..._you_."

Fleur plunged downward, her mouth affixing to to the erect nipple. She firmly held Hermione's breast, as her mouth began to demandingly suck, hard, at her mate. She milked and kneaded the breast, simultaneously, to stimulate and expedite the let-down of Hermione's breast milk.

Fleur was past the point of waiting. She was primal; she was animalistic; and she wanted what she wanted. Her mate. Fleur nursed, impatiently, upon the trembling woman's nipple. Hermione was panting; she could feel the beginning of the rush.

When it hit, it hit, **hard**.

"Oh, **fuck,** Fleur! _Yes!_...just like that.._.suck_ me..._Ohhh_!" She threw her head backwards, an intoxicated gasp escaping the Golden Girl's mouth, when her milk flowed into Fleur's waiting mouth.

She could hear Fleur's desperate gulping noises, as she swallowed. She pressed their centers together, rubbing their clits together, as Fleur's mouth continued its ministrative demands on her nipple.

"Fuck, **yes**,_ fuck_..." Hermione groaned. It was _so_ good. It was_ so_ much,_ so_ intense...and as Fleur switched to the other side, having fully emptied her right breast, she felt like she might pass out. Her eyes shot backwards, as she felt the warm lips encircle her left nipple, and she groaned again. Fleur continued suck her nipple above while grinding their fully-clothed centers together, with maximum friction, below. Hermione didn't care, just as long as those _needy lips_ didn't stop what they were doing...didn't stop sucking her...drinking her...

Fleur nursed her so hard, in fact, that It barely registered to Hermione when she hit the climax of her orgasam,_ down below._

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXXO**

"Hermione, you look like utter _shit_!"

"And it's nice to see you too, Harry. Remind me why I do this with you?"

The two Gryffindors regarded each other, as they prepared to order dinner at the Three Broomsticks. Once a month, the best friends would escape their respective significant others, and go out together, just the two of them. After all they'd been through, they weren't going to lose each other out of the inerta of a busy life, either one of them.

"Because I'm your brother, practically, and you love me."

She rolled her eyes, theatrically, and took a drink of her butter beer. "So you tell me."

They both chuckled.

Harry's eyes, however, didn't hold humor in them. They held concern. "Hermione, uh...for real. What's going on? Things okay with you and Fleur?"

"Of course!" She said, defensively. Just the mention of the witch's name, these days, cause her nipples to tingle. She huffed. "It is an adjustment, of course, to being with someone that has such a primal side..."

The reminder of her mate caused Hermione's nipples to chafe, in addition to tingle. Frankly, they were absolutely_ raw._ Fleur's consuming desire had resulted in near round the clock feedings lately. Frankly, it was becoming an addiction, and required constant attention. Neither of them were sleeping much anymore. Hermione's breasts were constantly chapped, as well as painfully engorged from the _sheer frequency_ of Fleur's attention; worse, she often walked with some difficulty due to the soreness between her legs from Fleur's carnal actions, down below, that would result afterwards.

But she was just as sick as Fleur, and needed it just as much, perhaps more.

"You're not being put in a situation that you might feel is compromising, are you, Hermione?" He said, gently.

"No! I promise. It's mutual insanity, I think." She grinned, wanly. "I'm just getting use to actually having a sex drive. Its taken some adjustment."

He laughed. "Anything else?"

"Oh, you know me, I'm just trying to do to Goddamn much in a day, and such. I'm struggling with a complicated problem requiring a complex solution, and its taking me a long time to figure it out. I've been working on the same problem for four months, and _nothing_!"

"Woah..." He said, reverently. "Well, want to run it by me? Sometimes just the process of explaining it to someone else..."

Hermione was silent, clearly debating internally. She was relieved that despite the fact the place was getting more crowded, people gave them a wide berth, respecting their privacy. That, and the heavy hand of Rosemerta, gave the two a chance to commiserate.

"Well, let's say, Harry...if you had this friend, who wanted to get pregnant..._and she could_, but it was complicated..."

He kept his face neutral. "Complicated by...?" He looked around, then lowered his voice to a whisper, his eyes peering over his spectacles. "Complicated by the fact there was... _no sperm_?"

Hermione openly laughed, a bitter laugh. Harsher than she intended, she said, "Oh, no, there's sperm! There's _lots and lots_ of sperm! It's just of a different _species._.."

"Oh!" He said, eyes widening. "How many times have you - I mean, your friend...how many times has she tried?"

Hermione looked at him, startled. "Er...zero, actually."

"Well. I imagine that's your first problem, Hermione, then..." He smiled.

She swirled her butter beer, staring into her glass. "Well, we won't exactly be doing_ in vivo_ experiments, Harry."

"I don't know what that means, but...why not?"

Her brown eyes looked at him plaintively. She looked around, to ensure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. "Because she's huge, Harry. _Huge!_ I mean, like gigantisaurous huge... I'd die!"

He didn't say anything, but soon started to laugh, for a good five minutes. Tears falling from his eyes, he looked at the frustrated glare of his best friend. "Bloody hell, that's awesome! The most desired woman in England, your wife...is packing heat! Oh Merlin, that's fucking awesome!"

Hermione only glared.

"_She's_ not...her Veela **is**."

"Ah." He sucked in his breath. "Well...hm. That **is** complicated, Hermione."

"Tell me about it!" She said, glumly.

They ate their hors-de-ouvres, silently. Harry mulled over this new development, thinking. Hermione looked tired, and uncomfortable. Finally, he leaned forward and said, "You know what, Hermione?"

"What?"

"I think...well, I think you're doing your typical overthinking."

"Huh?"

"I think that you should just...go for it."

"_What?_"

He nodded, firmly. "I bet you've been doing your typical battle planning. Planning for every contingency, even doing test experiments or dress rehearsals, right?"

He didn't need an answer - her blush was answer enough.

"Look," He said, gently, as he grabbed her wrist. "Just...try. Fleur loves you more than life itself! She _adores_ you. She would never, never in a million years hurt you. And I'm sure her Veela is equally protective."

"Worse, actually."

"See? There you go. What's it going to hurt you to try? Remember, with every great discovery, there is a little luck and unknown. You can't plan for everything, Granger. You of all people should know that...have I taught you nothing? And, furthermore...oh, bloody hell!" He said, looking at his watch piece.

They stood, realizing the late hour, and they hugged, preparing to go their separate ways.

As they parted, Harry whispered in her ear. "By the way..._not that I'm bragging_, but Gin says I'm... freakishly endowed. Go to the Wizard apothecary down the road here," he pointed down the alley, " and ask for 'Madame Jacquiline's Love Balm Elixer'...it's a lubricant that you'll thank me for, later. Gin swears by it!"

He winked, and apparated away.

Looking around, a very red Hermione Granger-Delacour started off, in the direction of Harry's Apocathary shop.

**TBC.**


	13. The Truth About Love

**Tell Me Your Secrets**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...

**A/N:** Holy Rated PG batman! Kinda a non smut chapter with references to lactation/Veela beastiality kinks

**Chapter13. The Truth About Love.**

It was a perfect day for flying.

Hermione had come in from breakfast bright eyed, and excited. "It's like _spring,_ Fleur- it's gorgeous outside!"

The blonde French witch, exhausted from their previous nights activities, seemed hardly thrilled about the prospect of spring.

"Merde! It's very loud in here, all of a sudden," she grumbled, digging her face back into the pillow.

Hermione would have none of it. "Fleur, wake up! I want Bob and I to go out, early, today! Bob will love it!"

"I'm so 'appy for you and Bob!" The groggy woman grumbled.

"Bob" was their secret code name for Fleur's transformed Veela, a derivation of the British idiom, "Bob's your Uncle." It had taken a life of its own, with Fleur often joking about Hermione's boyfriend, Bob. The Gryffindor occasionally wondered if there was a hint of real jealousy for her "boyfriend," but that would be idiotic, she decided.

Fleur felt her Veela within starting to get antsy, excited to go with Hermione early.

"Zut...don't _you_ get started, too, wiz zis idiocrasy!" Fleur warned the Veela.

_"See_? Bob wants to go too!" Hermione said, pouncing on the blonde. She grinned. "The sky is awake...so we are awake! We want to play!" She said giddy.

"I hate you _both_!" Grumbled the sleepy witch.

**XOXOXO**

It was an absolutely majestic day.

Fleur-the-Veela and Hermione sat, content. They had discovered a patch of clover on the shores of Scotland's cliffs. Hermione had to admit, the flying the two did allowed her to see part of her native land she wouldn't have seen, any other way, without the Veela. It had given her a real appreciation of how beautiful it really was, in its private nooks and crannies.

The Veela was at present devouring clover by the mouthful, stopping only to sheepishly look up at Hermione. She laughed.

"Really...don't mind me," she said, amused. "I'm glad you're enjoying it!" She tore out a handful of clover herself, examining it. "Why is it you like this stuff so much?" She sniffed it, and put it in her mouth- much to the Veela's delight, and started chewing. "Hmmm," she commented, musing over the taste. "it's not bad... Although I don't know that I would've flown 54 Kilometers just to have it, however."

Then, with their special telepathy, she turned to the Veela, expression serious. _I need to talk to you about something important._

_Okay...you have my undivided attention, little one. _The Veela had stopped eating.

_This is something that **cannot** be shared with human Fleur-is that even possible? _

The large Veela paused, shifting uncomfortably. Yes,_ Little Mia. We can put up occulmancy Shields, and block our minds from our human forms on rare occasions...it is difficult, but it's possible. Why?_

Hermione looked around the field of clover grimly. Her expression was obviously pained, the memory of whatever it was she had to tell the Veela incredibly difficult for her. The topic was a direct juxtaposition to the bright sunny day. The Veela nuzzled her, with its beak.

_It's because I have taken the unbreakable vow, to never to tell another human what I'm about to tell you._

_Oh, Merde, okay...let me prepare my mind._

Fleur-the-Veela took a deep breath, and with a sigh, cleared her thoughts, and put up the necessary shields. Her red eyes opened, looking directly at Hermione, and the Veela nodded, once.

_So...thank you. You look like that took a bit out of you...and I appreciate you doing that for me, sight unseen. Okay... _ Hermione bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. _Fleur, when I worked for the Ministry, as an Auror...I was involved in a case that was absolutely horrifying. Have you heard about the Romanveski case?_

_Oh my God I don't think there's a Veela alive that has not...wait you worked on **that**?_

_I did. My partner, a Veela, and I were the ones who made the arrests on that case. That was the Sentinel case that changed my life. After my partner and I broke open the prostitution and enslavement ring, and finally had the perpetrators arrested...well, the punishment they received was far different that what we thought they were going to get. As you know, instead of execution they were given aggravated assaults and not prosecuted to the full extent of the wizarding laws..._

Hermione's expression was grim and angry, simultaneously. She continued.

_I left the field work, after that case, in order to sponsor a bill to prosecute creature abuse to the fullest extent of the law. To make creature abuse no different than wizard abuse; however there are too many people that are interested in keeping things exactly the way they are. It led to my general disgust with politics in general... and I left the ministry after that. Shortly thereafter I came to Hogwarts and, well, you know the rest. _Hermione offered a sad grin to the Veela, who was resting its snout on her lap. She petted the Veela's crown.

After a long silence, the Veela raised its head, and asked, _Mia that is terrible... and tragic. Certainally, I think my people owe a sincere debt of gratitude. That being said...why are you telling me this?_

Hermione took a deep breath, collecting herself. Her hand stilled, resting on Fleur-The-Veela. _Yes, well, there are two things to mention...the first, is that my partner on the case, was your mother._

The Veela startled. _Arrêter le baiser! Apollene? **What?**_

_Yes, I knew that would be shocking. She's wonderful, Fleur, really. I consider her the only real mentor that I had, as an unspeakable. _

She let that marinate for a moment before launching into the next bombshell.

_The second thing is, and I still feel unsettled about this, somewhat...I think they had someone on the inside. We couldn't ever prove it, but I know it to be true._

The Veela snorted. I_ don't believe it! Veela would never betray-_

Hermione interrupted. _Really? Even the Mendoncias? _

Fleur-The-Veela took pause.

_Look, _Hermione explained_, The__ Romanveski brothers knew too much. They knew your travel patterns, your habitats, and they had to figure out how to track Veela by their thrall. Someone gave them those insights, Fleur._

_They used the Thrall to track them?_

_Yes. It sends out something similar to muggle "__radio waves" when emitted. It is not that hard to develop sensors to detect it, once you know what you're looking for._

The Veela slumped on the ground, taking it all in. The large head with its white feathered plume rested on its front claws, the Veela clearly deep in thought on the ground. It looked at its mate, exchanging a look of understanding.

_I can't let them win, Fleur. I can't...not again. It eats at me, still, to this very day..._

They watched the countryside, the warm breeze and promise of summer in the wind at odds with the ugly topic they were discussing. The Veela snapped its large head up, gazing at Hermione.

_Wait a minute...if they were tracking Veela, by their thrall...how did Apollene not tip them off during your surveillance?_

Hermione smiled, a small mysterious smile. With a grin, she looked sideways at the Veela. _Again...good pick-up, Fleur. You're very much like your mother, you know._

The Veela shuddered.

_She's wonderful, you know. I adore her... anyway, you picked up on my greatest achievement that will never see the light of day. I developed a shield, to block the Veela thrall. Apollene let me beta test it on her, and, well..._

The Veela cocked its head, making the connection._ Your shield **worked.**_

_Yes._

_Impressive, Little One, Impressive. Is that how you hid the girls?_

_What? _She asked, startled.

_The prostitutes...the girls who were forced into prostitution. They were never heard from again. We just assumed they were dead...are they?_

Hermione shrugged_. Don't know. _Changing the subject, she communicated with a stern look._ You know what that case taught me, though? It taught me a lot about Veela, Fleur. A **lot.** The one thing I didn't expect from a class of beings that are themselves discriminated against, was the elitist attitude._

_What?_

_You Veela don't think much of humans, do you?_

**_What?_** _Quelle est votre crazy bouche dit_ ,_ Hermione?_

_I'm not crazy, thank you very much. You really don't think much of humans...hence the distinguishing of 'this person is 1/2 Veela' or '1/2 Veela' or 'full Veela'. It's to identify how diluted the blood is, really...that's why you guys do it._

_How did we go from what we were talking about, to this? You know how much I think of you, my Mate!_

Hermione gave a gentle smile. _I know that, Fleur. I know you respect me, and love me...cherish me, really. Right?_

If a Veela creature could master an indignant look, Fleur-The-Veela did, in that very moment. _Of course I do! How could you think otherwise?_

Hermione stroked Fleur's feathers, that were literally ruffling. She laughed at the irony. Calming the Veela, Hermione responded in a gentle manner. _Of course I know that - I know the human loves me, and I know YOU love me. I know it, as sure as I know my name is Hermione._

_Ca suffit!_

_Calm down, Fleur! I'm not implying you don't! I'm rather surprised, however, that you allow your kind to insinuate...otherwise._

_**What?** Now what?_

Hermione turned, fixing her full attention on the confused Veela. _Think about it, Fleur. These supposed "maiming of the human mate" incidents...have you ever actually known of one, first hand?_

The avian creature thought about it. _Well, no...I mean, it's been forbidden, really, as long as I've been alive._

_Exactly! _Hermione snapped her fingers, pointing. _And if you try to read any actual documented reporting of such a mauling, it doesn't exist. _ She held up her hand, intercepting the Veela's next comment. _And before you say how secretive your kind is, stop. I'll tell you right now, I was given access to La Miradors._

The Veela gasped. La Miradors, or "The Watchtower," was the secret headquarters of the Veela where the only recordings of births and deaths were kept-most Veela were not allowed in, much less humans. Hermione looked at her mate, as if to say, 'what about it?'

_Look, when you're trying to stave off the profligation and abuse of a Veela slavery ring, the elders give you a wide berth. But something I noticed? As an incidental observation, you people are really, really into **reproduction.** Every pregnancy, that doesn't go to term. Every mating. Everything! I'm sure you and I are in La Miradors' recordings, now. _

The Veela waited, expectantly.

_Fleur...I saw not ONE case of a Veela mauling a human mate, at least in the last century. _

The Veela's red eyes widened, in realization.

_Fleur, that's done to keep things...how did I say it...that myth is fostered, I think, to keep things exactly the way they are. _

_No..._

_Yes, Fleur. THINK about it. Think! The way you feel about me...do you really think you would ever hurt me? You've only been protective, loving, and kind. What's going to change, fundamentally? Nothing!_

_Impossible..._

_Not impossible. It's just...the way things are. It protects what... I imagine, some Veela felt would be ... dilution. _

The Veela was up, pacing_. Everything I've ever been taught...everything I held sacred..._her red eyes flashed with anger. _All this time, I believed...I believed, Hermione, that I couldn't have you, the way I wanted to, because of my base instincts..._

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

_Fleur...I'm willing, if you are, Fleur. _Hermione pulled out a small vial from her robes, from her recent outing to Diagon Alley. _ I...I'm taking the advice of an old friend, Fleur. I'm willing to test out those so-called "base instincts" of yours. _

She set the vial down on the ground, gently. Looking up, her brown eyes meeting startled red ones, she smiled._ Just, be gentle, okay?_

_I...I don't know what to say..._

Hermione was unfastening her robe at the top. She looked at her mate, smiling again.

_Say "Okay, Hermione" and come over here! **That's** what you say._

The Veela looked at the human witch, in disbelief.

_And hopefully, Fleur, you'll say that...today,_ Hermione suggested. As she continued to undress, finishing when she was completely naked with a stack of neatly folded robes on the ground, next to the vial, she blushed at how the Veela stared at her, breathless at her beauty. She smiled and sat down, patiently.

_Because if you don't, soon, Fleur_...you know, _this will become really embarrassing, really quickly._

Hermione patted the ground, next to her.

"Come." She said, out loud.

**TBC.**

Don'tja **Love** those cliffys!


	14. Lies

**Tell Me Your Secrets**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...

**A/N:** NSFW...close your browser at work, you've been warned! The usual... lactation/Veela beastiality kinks.

NOTE: This is a repost -a revised chapter after a friend/Beta pointed out the bajillion errors- sorry for the (literally) 43,000+ views prior to this that read this (color me embarrassed). I feel like I should buy you all Smoothies or something. Whoops.

**Chapter 14. No More Lies**

Everywhere.

The feelings that she presently felt, were driven solely by carnal motivations, and were almost too much to for the typically intellectually driven woman to bear. For Hermione, making love to Fleur-the-Veela could only described as intense...frightening...

...stimulating...

...but above all else, _life changing_.

When Fleur-the-Veela first entered her, after the initial flush of excruciating pain (despite slathering on a generous dose of 'Harry's secret weapon,'), she willed her body to relax and stop panicking.

It did, and the rest of her did, as well.

Then, she allowed herself to _feel_. It was unlike anything she had ever known, before. She realized it was such a deep, physical and spiritual need between them, she and Bob; the drive of their primal instinct and the ingrained bond between them. It was simply physical closure to what had been destined forever. Hermione felt it in her heart, just as much as she felt it as the "hot mess" between her legs.

But make no mistake...she _felt it _there. She felt it there, and everywhere else. She felt her mate on top of her leaning in across her torso; her heavy breath on her neck; her rough tongue on her cheek, face, neck, and flanks...but most of all, she felt it when she felt her mate filling her, deep inside.

Fleur's girth was utterly astounding, and Hermione was still shocked she didn't faint from the initial pain. What was unexpected to her was that she almost fainted from the intense subsequent pleasure that filled her, moments later.

Fleur was grinding, hard, into her center, to seed...Hermione gasped. Her body was rocking with the force of Fleur's thrusts. It was just everything, everywhere. It was all at once, and sudden. Her body felt completely different than it did when making love with Fleur-the-human. What passed between them _now, _ was so intense, so deep, so primal... so filling!

As she felt her third orgasm approaching, the Veela _**bit**_ her, on the neck, unexpectedly, to emphasize her point. Naturally it shocked Hermione; but it wasn't unpleasant. Yes, it did hurt; and yes, she could tell that she was bleeding. However, it was _hardly_ the mauling that had been forewarned by Veela lore. It was almost...romantic, in a fashion. Hermione recognized it for _exactly_ what it was; a beast marking its mate.

The Veela growled, above her, declaring, "_You are mine, Hermione, only mine... do you understand that?_" Fleur demanded, as she continued to ram hard, thrusting deep into Hermione's core.

_"I...ungh...Yes! Ohhh...so good...I. Um, **yours**, only yours...your mate. Oh, fuck..."_

The Golden Girl was unable to think or utter any intelligible speech, at this point. The sheer girth of the Veela, as it barreled into her core, was undoing the human it impaled. Fleur-the-Veela, by virtue of her size, reached deep into Hermione in a manner no previous lover had done...including Fleur-the-human. Fleur had been going tentatively, at first; she no longer felt as gentrified towards her human mate. No, now the Veela within felt liberated and authentic; now the Veela was _bold_. They were no longer strangers, and as such, the lovers moved towards demanding more from one another.

Their first orgasm had been pleasant; albeit rather...polite. It was the type of sex meant not to offend.

Their second attempt was better. Quite frankly, Hermione was over her initial shock at the sensation of being entered by someone so well endowed. Time two was quite honestly... better... as Hermione's opening had been somewhat stretched out, rather extensively. Plus, the novelty and shock of the onslaught between her legs by Fleur's endowed state had worn off.

The_ third time_, however, was when they finally lost their formality. They finally became who they were meant to be, to each other.

_Mates_. Mates, for life.

The Veela had hungered for the pixieish brunette forever...years, since the first glimpse of Hermione in her awkward 4th year. The young Gryffindor was everything the Veela ever wanted...hungered for...and now, she was finally here.

She was _underneath_ the Veela, and neither were adolescents, any longer.

Now, in fact, the Veela was entering its virile _prime_. Fleur was now an adult Veela, and she was fully enraptured by the smell of her fertile bride, and lost in the tactile sensation of HER. Fleur was mesmerized by Hermione's wetness, and her obvious arousal. Fleur was possessed, fully, by the desire to pleasure Hermione to the fullest extent possible...and possessed with the desire to _impregnate_ Hermione.

Fleur wanted nothing more than to fulfill her destiny. _Their_ destiny.

Previously forbidden, the heavenly skies had now opened to the previously despairing Veela, and seemingly offering her the _kingdom_. Fleur was going to savor it. Relish it. Demand it. Her claws gripped the shoulders of her tiny human, holding her firmly in place. Fleur-the-Veela let out a low growl, as her member, lined up at Hermione's entrance. Her penis was still erect- _probably permanently_, Fleur thought offhandedly, despite having emptied into her mate twice prior. Hermione caused such arousal in her, she never wanted to stop. Plus, Hermione was just _so fucking tight_, it made Fleur breathless with the pleasure of Hermione's core clamping down on her shaft.

Fleur looked down, meaningfully, at her mate, who gave her a dazed smile in return. Thrusting forward, hard, Fleur let out a guttural moan to the skies...it was the deepest thrust yet. _So good,_ Fleur gasped, aloud. Hermione abstractly realized how different this was from making love to Fleur-the-Human. What they were doing? It was primal, really. What they were engaging in now, was sex at the most base of levels. The desperate thrusts, the wanton moans and pleas for "deeper" and "harder" and "fuck me" were the instinctual calls between the creature and its human mate trying to answer their destiny.

As Fleur thrust herself deeper and farther than she had before into Hermione, in their previous two runs, she reduced the tiny brunette beneath her to gurgling out abstract and wanton moans. Hermione's eyes were unfocused, rolling to the back of her head. Her bangs were matted, pasted down by sweat on her forehead, as she was overcome with the sensation of Fleur.

The Veela discovered a space Hermione herself did not even know she possessed. A rough patch, back deep within her core, deeply recessed near her Os. When the Veela bucked hard into it, the deep friction caused the typically reserved "good girl" to _buck_ and _whine_ and _beg_, and claw at her Avian mate.

Desperate and clawing, it would appear to an outside observer that it was the _human_ mate mauling the Veela...and not the other way around!

Make no mistake: Fleur was driven by nothing but instinct, at this moment. The Veela was driven by one overriding feeling only at this moment: the drive to impregnate her mate.

To _own_ her mate.

To repel any possible additional suitors, and to ensure the survival of her family line, and her species.

Driving into Hermiones opening, watching her writhe with pleasure underneath her, The Veela finally felt complete. Everywhere. The session was becoming more heated as it became more desperate. Their sex was needy. Hermione's hands were everywhere, while Fleur's talons dug into Hermione's shoulders, as she bucked deeper into her. Hermione felt Fleur everywhere, all at once.

Hermione screamed, out loud, this time. "Oh, **Fuck**...Fleur, _I'm coming_!" Yelled Hermione, her voice raspy. "Bloody hell! It's so good..._it's so good!_ Oh, Gods, don't stop..." She threw her head backwards and let out a cry as she gripped the powerful flank muscles of Fleur's avian torso. "The best one yet...oh, fuck!"

Fleurs wings spread, unexpectedly, as she felt her release hit.

_Hermione...Hermione...Hermione..._The Veela chanted, like some crazed sex mantra. Then she felt, for the first time, her member begin to swell, at its base. Fleur began to panic.

_Oh, no!_ The Veela thought, worried. _Oh, Hermione...this will hurt! Oh, Little Mia...I'm so sorry!_

The burning pain hit, suddenly, at her opening. Hermione screamed in pain, as Fleur began to knot within her walls. Fleur instinctively began to lick her cheeks and neck, encasing her with her wings. If the human's channel felt tight before, this was _absolute bondage_. She was so firmly entrenched and stuck within Hermione's tender walls, her knot preventing either from moving. With a grunt, Fleur tilted Hermione backwards, to let gravity do it work, and lessen the physics somewhat, as to palliate the pain.

The brunette was sweating and trembling, but still. She began to pale, and was wimpering, slightly.

The Veela looked terrified. O_h my god, my precious Hermone...I didn't know..._ The Veela licked her cheek._ I didn't know I would knot, like some animal! Oh ma chou, are you okay? Sil vous plait...Please! Say something_ ..!

Hermione communicated after a moment, wincing as if the the mere act of talking was excruciating. She opted for their non verbal communication, hoping to minimize the pain.

_I knew, Fleur. I knew when it was "the time," you would knot in me._ Hermione laughed, woefully, and continued. _I've been experimenting with this for five months,remember? I was expecting a 4th degree tear - thank god it didn't happen._

Fleur-the-Veela said nothing at first, trying to stay still, and licking her mate, for comfort. _Hermione...I think you're bleeding. I may have torn you a bit, down below..Merde!_ A deep sorrow reflected in the horrified gaze of the Veela.

Hermione remained still.

"Ma belle...please...are you hurt?" Fleur spoke out loud.

"Oh, it hurts! Make no mistake, it hurts... a lot!" Hermione croaked. She licked her chapped lips. "But, worse is..." She licked her dry lips, again. "Worse, is its torture, because it feels... so **fucking** good!" She laughed, tensely. "Fuck! I feel your _seed_ in me, your _knot_ wedged in my walls, and every little movement is _arousing_ me!"

Fleur looked shocked.

Hermione winced. "Oh, Fuck, Fleur...fuccccck! I'm so close to _coming_, again..."

As Fleur gasped at Hermiones confession, that faint movement from her gasp was enough to finally tip the human over the edge.

"**Oh fuck!** Fleur! _Ohhhhh..."_

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Hermione continued to research, and soon realized the influence of breast feeding her mate was probably not helping her fertility, so they decided to limit their nursing sessions, restricting them to once in the morning, and once before bedtime. There would be an occasional "as needed" session during the day if one or the other was feeling particularly needy-but that was happening less and less these days.

Frankly, It was fairly impossible for them to "feel needy" for each other anymore, with the sheer volume of the ways in which their needs were being met, in both frequency and intensity.

Bob, as expected, was hardly content to sit on the sidelines, and be regulated to limiting time with Hermione - copulating a mere once a week was simply not acceptable to the virile Veela. Fleur-the-Veela negotiated with Fleur-the-human, and they finally came to an impasse. They agreed to twice a week on Wednesdays and Sundays. While the Veela wanted more of Hermione, even Bob agreed it would be unlikely Hermione's body could handle more than that. Those parameters should have been acceptable, if not for one thing.

Fleur the human. As it turned out, Fleur-the-human's appetite for her mate, and her need for sex with Hermione, had also intensified.

The blonde Frenchwoman had become positively insatiable since the initial Veela sex attack. It was as though the human underwent a "rebirth" and became somehow vitalized by the Veela's awakening, and vice versa with the human to its innate beast. They both became addicts, frankly.

Most shocking, Hermione seemed able to handle the ardor of her spouse, in every form.

The brightest witch of her era chuckled to herself. _ Hermione...insatiable? _She would muse. It seem impossible, earlier in her life. Hermione found herself wondering if it was possibly to die from too much pleasure. She contemplated, half seriously, if one could possibly die from sensory overload. The girl who had lived her life so closed off and reserved, driven by the quest for knowledge was reduced to a creature driven by lust and passion. No longer was she guided by her famous brain, but rather, by the sensations and needs dictated between her legs.

That realization was disconcerting for Hermione on her best day.

After nearly six weeks of this, frankly, her body was revolting on her, in general. She wasn't sleeping, she was constantly eating, her metabolism was so amped up from constant arousal and the demands for sex. Her breasts were engorged, refusing to down-regulate, despite their rigid adherence to the limited schedule. Her lactation had long ago caused Hermione cease menstruating at the beginning of term, when they started to adult nurse; now she would occasionally spot. Worse, she was getting weird blemishes everywhere.

Although some of the blemishes, in fact, were frequent bruises and bites, she had to admit...from either her human or her creature spouse; at this point, she could no longer distinguish who gave her the mark.

She felt like she looked crazy, but Fleur constantly reassured her she looked hot. Or sexy. Or hot _and_ sexy, usually before she fucked her.

What Hermione did know, is that she would not be able to go at this pace forever. For the first time she could honestly say she really didn't give a shit about her professional life, and that disturbed her.

Roughly two months before the end of term, Fleur won the "favorite professor" award from the student body. Not that Fleur **wasn't** deserving; she was an excellent teacher. It's just that the honor should have been bestowed as Hermione's award, had she brought her "A Game" to the table. Fleur would be the first to admit there wouldn't have even been a contest between the Golden Girl and the next closest competitor. She lived for education, after all.

Ironic. The "Brightest Witch of Her Era", the penultimate academician, had been ousted in the final hour -albeit by a worthy candidate, but one who nonetheless was far more interested in getting into Hermione's _privates_ than getting into the _minds_ of her students...unlike Hermione. In the final analysis, as good as a professor as Fleur Delacour-Granger actually was, everyone knew it wasn't her currency. School hours were merely an annoying way to pass the time until she could reasonably get with her mate again, in private.

Then the strange thing occurred, with less than 1 month left in the term; Fleur's sex drive seem to calm down. Hermione was finally able to sleep again. Fleur resumed her status, once again, of being the charming and protective girl she was when they were courting, and they became more like when they were best friends in the beginning. They were seen laughing together, and didn't seem so...primal. Her scheduled flying sessions with Bob became that again- flying sessions; although Bob would tend to fly simple routes, and never veer too far from Hogwarts perimeter, despite the constant hackling from Hermione that Fleur the Veela was getting conservative in her old age.

But it did give Hermione the opportunity to remember why she fell in love with the overprotective and constantly doting Veela, as well.

Life became somewhat normal, again, much to the relieve of the Headmistress. Thank God Hermione's intellectual capacity had finally been returned to her, for she would need it: With a mere one week left of school, as the professors sat at the head table talking amongst themselves, comparing notes for summer break, something startling would occur.

**XOXOXOXOX**

They were chatting animatedly at the head table.

Minerva was effusive in her praise. "Fleur, your skin - you've looked absolutely radiant ever since, well, roughly February onward of this year. What's your secret, dear?"

Fleur glowed.

"Mmmm- sank you, 'eadmistress." The blonde said, demurely. "I 'ave been... _experimenting_ wiz various zings in my diet."

She winked at Hermione, causing her to blush.

Headmistress McGonnigall nodded approvingly. "Well, whatever you do, keep it up, dear girl! It's doing wonders for your complexion."

"Oh, bien sur, I intend to..." She said with a evil grin.

Hermione couldnt blush harder if she tried. Worse, Fleur's devilish look made her nipples tingle. Fortunately she was resuced from the great embarrassment, soon to become worsening embarrassment foreshadowed by Hagrid's excited cry.

"**Blimey!** I don't believe me eyes! It's a short-toed eagle! Two of 'em!" He pointed skyward.

Hermione was amazed at the majestic creatures, fierce in their flight, as was the rest of the student body in the great Hall, until she saw the look of horror on her spouses' face. She asked in a low voice, "Fleur, what is it? What's the matter?"

The color drained out of the French professor's face and her voice trembled, slightly. "_Mon Dieu!_ It is ze Circaete Jean-le-Blanc, 'ermione..." She gulped. "Zis is...not good."

"What are those?" Hermione said, still confused.

In a matter of fact voice, Fleur replied. "Zey are... ze birds of prey, belonging only to ze Veela council."

As if on cue, the regal birds swooped in circles, to awed gasps. Flying overhead, they dive bombed, and landed directly in from of both Hermione and Fleur, respectively. They dropped a identical scroll of parchment in front of the two startled witches, then immediately retreated, exiting the Hogwarts grounds with purpose, leaving the student's mouths agape.

Hermione and Fleur looked at each other, and unrolled the parchment simultaneously:

**THE VEELA COUNCIL WILL MEET- Full Session**

**20:00 Saturday p.m.- second full moon. **

**Sacred Grounds**

**Your Attendance Is Required**

Hermione startled, as the scroll immediately caught flames, unexpectedly, and self- combusted in her hands. She dropped it just in time before she was burned, causing the nearby onlookers to scream.

Hermione spoke quickly. "That's **this** Saturday, Fleur! I've heard about this...oh my God, Fleur..."

Fleur looked around, pensive, at the other faculty staring at them. Looking at the ashes in front of her own charred command summons, she muttered, _"Bordel de merde..."_ under her breath. The other faculty that spoke French raised their eyebrows.

Minerva reached over, grasping Hermione's wrist, and whispered, "Professor Del-um, Hermione, dear...is everything alright, ladies?"

"**Non**." Fleur said definitively. "Everyzing is not..alright."

Hermione looked up at the eyes full of concern. The Gryffindor, shaking slightly, gave her former head of house a terrified look, right before she promptly threw up on the spot.

_**TBC.** _

_Love these two, I do. _


	15. The Truth Shall Set You Free, Part I

**Tell Me Your Secrets**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...

**A/N:** Yep- its the end. True dat. Loved writing this- love these two. Thank you those of you who held on till the bitter end. Couple o' chapters left maybe epilogue.

**Chapter FIN. The Truth Shall Set You Free, Part I.**

It was just as horrifying as Hermione imagined.

As Fleur and Hermione's bonding had become complete, the Veela elders decided the leadership and successor "issue" _had_ to be addressed. As Hermione was led, silently, to the Sacred Grounds, the undercurrent of magic was undeniable. Hermione felt charged, for the first time in many months; she felt alive. Her own magic crackled at the tips of her fingers, in a way it had only a few times previously...

Her_ other_ presumed "last stands."

Hermione could only hope she hadn't used up the sum total of her nine lives in those moments of desperation and finality; she would say she suspected she need all the luck possible now. Looking at the crowd, they looked right back at her. ...Some admiring some disgusted, but all invested completely and totally invested.

As her gaze swept from left to right, jaw slightly agape, The brightest witch of her generation was speechless, as she found herself in such a throng of classical beauty amongst a critical mass of Veela. Rarely would they ever congregate in such large numbers. Never had she ever seen such a collection of beautiful and eretherial beings. Even her own bride looked different, as soon as they arrived. She had to still her heart as she gazed over at her Fleur; her hair seemed to light from within, seeming taller, more vibrant, and definitely more purposeful.

The look of determination on her face, as she gripped Hermione's hand, tightly, was absolutely heart-stopping.

Sometimes she forgot- not often- how exceptional her mate truly was, even amongst the exceptional.

Even Fleur's sister, Gabrielle, seemed somehow older and worldlier. In this setting. Hermione reflected on the Delacours, momentarily. It had always been a given that Fleur would be an able and worthy successor to her mother, the bylaws were such that without a possibility of a Veela offspring, the fate of the rule of the House of Delacour would now come to an end.

The House that had led the Clan for over three centuries, with prosperous outcomes.

Despite the rigidity of the archaic rule, it was also mandatory Veela tradition to allow the outgoing leadership make an appeal to the quorum, and the possibility of majority vote could overturn the rule. Incredible democracy for such a longstanding autocratic state of rule, really.

The Appeal.

Hermione knew it - Apollene and she hadn't become such a successful paring for naught, back in her government days. Hermione instinctively knew that's what her ex-partners next move was; she knew that's what Apollene was counting on. The appeal was a perfect opportunity. The formidable retired Auror and her ability to persuade the masses during the appeal proceedings was going to be the Delacours final stand. After all, she was known for being _very_ persuasive, back in the day. Yes, she was fierce, and occasionally downright terrifying; however, to define her to only by her warrior qualities would belie the truly amazing diplomatic acumen she possessed. The opponent that thought of her only as the fiercely brutal Auror for which she was legend would leave said opponent woefully unprepared.

Because her trait that was the most effective, time and time again, was that of her _cunning_ ... hence the nickname, "The Silver Fox."

**XOXOOXOXOXOOXOX**

Apollene, given the sensitive nature of the proceedings - the loss of rule by the Delacours, to the Mendoncias- she had decided to remove herself as presiding over the electorate.

As Hermione predicted, she was fierce in the appeal. The Silver Fox did give a very persuasive argument, enough to sway even a few of the people that have had their mind long made up. Unfortunately, tradition so longstanding was too much to overcome, even for somebody as powerful as Apollene. She had brought Hermione's war record; naturally, leaving few without tears at the sacred grounds-even some tears were shed by a few Mendoncias. She regaled the electorate with tales of her service afterwards to the government. She discussed her character traits and admirable qualities that made her not simply a good daughter-in-law, but a good code leader of the next generation. She concluded by reminding them that it would be an honor to have her join their clan.

Would it be the worst thing in the world, she offered, to have the rulership pass with Fleur and Hermione's offspring, even if non-Veela? It was a tough question indeed but one she force them to consider, given what they both brought to the table.

Unfortunately, tradition was simply too hard to overcome.

The Delacour's found themselves left with three votes short. Apollene looked up to the crowd, a indecipherable expression on her face.

"Veela-wait! Sit!" She commanded. "We are remiss...we 'ave forgotten somezing." she ordered.

The Veela sat, curious.

"I 'ad 'oped it wouldn't come to this. Zat I wouldn't be forced to do zis..." She looked to the side, motioning an onlooker. "Monsieur Potter, s'il vous plait. Bring ze Muggles!"

In walked Harry Potter, alone, watched by hundreds of curious Veela onlookers. He began to ward off the sacred ground, looking for obvious Routes for escape and possible treachery, in his role as Head Auror.

"Harry?" Hissed Hermione, clearly dumbfounded.

He gave her a backward glance, grinning broadly. He pause momentarily, giving her a silent thumbs up. The Auror quickly went back to work however, without any explanation offered to his best friend.

The crowd was murmuring with anticipation, and Apollene looked pleased.

Fleur, with her attenuated hearing, caught one of the Mendoncia twins make a snide comment.

"Oh please ... tell me we don't have to hear about the golden trio, again. That's just tired! But bringing Harry Potter himself and that's pathetic and desperate!"

Quicker than a cheetah, Fleur was in her face.

"_You Devil! _I promise you this, you ungrateful wretch...regardless of who is in charge of this clan, for the rest of your days I will ensure you thank Harry, Hermione, and Ron for the sacrifices they made for us. For the childhood they gave up. For the scars they still have inside and out fighting for freedom..._our freedom, _you ungrateful cur!"

Fleur's eyes flashed red.

There was something downright majestic and terrifying, both, in the mature Fleur Delacour-Granger. Her presence, her certainty, her confidence; before her third decade, she had managed the Gravitas of her mother. Bowing up to her the other twin who wasn't directly in her line of wrath, said snidely, "Can it, Fleur! Your days are numbered here. You can't really throw your weight around like you used to- I recommend you get adjusted to that."

She grinned and sniffling foul grand that made Fleur's blood boil. It was only a familiar soothing voice and a gentle touch on her back that stop the transformation from happening.

"Fleur, darling, " soothed Hermione. "Forget about them."

As they walked away, hand-in-hand, Hermione cast a quick glance over her shoulder to regard the overly smug girls.

"You know," the Golden Girl said calmly, appearing thoughtful, "I realize I'm new to this party; however, one thing I've learned in my short time here, is this: never c_ount out a Delacour."_

Hermione Delacour-Granger's calm demeanor and quiet voice was somehow far more threatening to the two twins, for some reason; they swallowed hard feeling nervous all of a sudden.

"Mudblood!" Muttered the twin with the false bravado, under her breath.

"Yes, **Beast?**" Hermione responded. If the situation weren't so serious, she would actually be laughing at the irony. She had been insulted by that word many times by fair worthier opponents, after all. It was almost funny.

Almost.

Hermione quickly surmised that there was nothing funny or ironic about the eyes she saw in front of her. Eyes pinging back and forth, borderline crazy with lust for power and the craving of acceptance. Those eyes reminded the brains of the trio of the ones she had seen over her with a cursed dagger, and every night in her nightmares, when she had them. The crazed Bellatrix Black, reincarnated, as a Veela, apparently.

The eyes of power-crazed blood lust.

She was only pulled from her observations by the excited shouts and screams of the Veela around her. Hermione looked around, confused. Dozens of Veela's were pointing, towards the top of the hill to their flank. Their excited cries indicated that a hooded figure was located, quietly observing with her multiple attendants.

"Mon Dieu!"

"It's her!"

"Oh Merde! Is it really? Is it La Veela Prêtresse?"

All the voices held the same excited reverence. Hermione was utterly baffled. She had never come across "La Veela Pretress," in all her many readings on Veela culture and subculture. That bothered the dogged researcher in her. Hermione frowned, thinking she would have to go back, and cross-reference some of her notes...

She could hear Fleur's throaty laugh next to her. "Even in ze midst of war, 'ermione, I can't 'elp but to find you...adorable."

Hermione's brows furrowed in confusion. "What? Why?"

"Your big, beautiful mind, my darling, zinking zat you 'ad missed some zing..." Fleur snorted, a few puffs of smoke coming out of her nostril, reminding her she didn't have the Veela locked too far away. "You did nozing wrong. It is illegal to speak of La Pretresse."

"What?"

"Oui! She is ze oldest known living Veela. She is 874 years of age, Hermione. She is ze original seer."

"Oh. I see...again, I request: What. The. Hell?"

Fleur laughed. "Well, zat iz most of ze sentiment, ma belle! She will send out a cryptic message once every decade or so. But to deliver her message, in person, is shocking. It must be important."

The thoughts of Fleur-The-Veela emerged. _It is rumored, my dear, that she is the one who transmitted the message that was later incanted to Sybil Trelawney._

_NO WAY._

_Way!_

_Well, tie me to an anthill and put honey on my ears! Wow..._

The Veela watched, enthralled, as the elderly Veela released one of her hawks, which landed on Apollene's shoulder, waiting for her to untie the message.

She read the message, frowning, her eyes darkening rapidly. He face looked pained as her gaze glanced towards where Hermione and Fleur were seated, but she said nothing, and gave away nothing. However, her eyes couldn't lie...they looked a little saddened.

Apollene whispered towards the Veela who sat in her stead, and her eyes widened. She immediately called a parliamentary recess, and the group was dismissed for a brief interlude.

**XOXOXO**

Hermione had tried hard not to read anything into Apollne's affect, and keep her own face neutral, especially for the purposes of keeping Fleur calm. It's a red were in intermittently appearing in Fleurs eyes, signaling that there was a storm brewing underneath her gorgeous visage with the calm exterior.

Hermione chose to speak to her in the language of the Veela.

_What are you looking at, Fleur? What's on your mind?_

_I can **smell** you, little one..._

_Shit on a Stick, really? **Here**? Honestly, Fleur, your timing is ridiculous! And quite honestly, after what you did to me last night, I was unsure I'd be able to sit right for weeks!_

Fleur the human was giving her a rather lewd look. She leaned forward. "Tell me...what did your Veela lover do to you, exactly, 'ermione?" Her nostrils flared, and Hermione could help the embarrassed flush that crept across her face.

She leaned over, conspiratorially, however refusing to back down from the challenge.

"Well, Fleur, my Veela mate decided ...hmm, well, to fuck my brains out, via my anal canal, then my vaginia, to be quite frank. Then my Veela lover went back to my anus again, until it became obvious this wasn't a typical one of our fucks, and the Veela pulled their incredibly rude dimensions out of my anal fourschette while I was distracted from what was going on..."

"...what waz going on?" Fleur breathed, heavily.

"Oh, well, you know...this and that. Bits and Bobs."

"No, I don't know," Fleur growled, eyes flashing to dark black. "I 'ave never 'ad a Veela lover; I 'ave never been taken in ze **_ass_**, 'ermione..."

Hermione flushed, looking around. She was relieved when she saw they had complete privacy.

Fleur's eyes blackened."...so, I suggest sat you continue, to describe these events to me, ma Cheri. Maintenant!"

Hermione chewed on her lips as small grin escaping her face. "Well, my Veela lover bit my shoulder, claiming me for nearly the 12,000th time..."

"Mmmm, hmmm," exhaled Fleur. "Did it...hurt?" She asked, the arousal evident in her voice.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. It did, and it _does_, actually. But, absolutely equaling out the pain..."

Fleur licked her lips. "Oui?"

"...is...is the fact...it _arouses_ me..."

Fleur growled, with anticipation. "Oui?"

"...yes. So fucking much!" Hermione said, her voice low.

The weight of the confession caused her to exhale a breath she was unaware she was holding . "In fact, I literally drench the sheets, with the sheer amount of arousal I squirt when my Veela lover claims me..."

Fleur's hand had disappeared under the tablecloth, as she began to massage herself between her legs, to relieve a little of this massive pressure. "Go on, sil vous plait, 'ermione..." Fleur growled, moving towards her lover's ear.

Closer, she whispered, "And, bien sur, I fantasize about ramming into you..."

"I see."

_"So hard_, 'ermione. So hard, and so full..." Her voice was discreet, but the obscene way Hermione's pussy responded just to Fleur Delacour's silky voice...

Hermione wasn't sure, but she suspected she let out a little whine.

"..._And now_?" Fleur panted, still whispering into Hermione's ear.

"Now, what?" Hermione gasped.

"Zat _needy hole_ of yours, doez it gape, now? Gape wide, just ...waiting for me?'

Hermione gasped, the arousal coursing through her body, at Fleur's filthy talk. She was tensing with sudden arousal, and the utter inappropriateness behavior, given what was happening outside, just added to the torture. Despite willing her body to respond otherwise, her nipples were taut to a hard nub, and sending small currents to the area in question.

"Oh, I'd say your evil plan worked, Veela-girl. _Yes_...it worked." She looked directly at Fleur. "In fact, it worked so well that my hole now gapes, _wide, _Fleur...all the time!"

Fleur was panting.

Hermione whispered, "what you've done to me, Fleur...my hole is absolutely_ ruined_ for anyone who were to come afterwards, unable to find any traction."

"How big?" Fleur's voice was almost incompressible, heavy with arousal.

She squeezed Fleur's bicep, hard, and hissed. "Please, you Pig! You know how you've stretched me...my opening is permanently open to ...oh, I don't know...Almost the size of a Navel orange?"

"Only... an orange?"

Hermione's expression was incredulous. "Only-?" She sputtered, in disbelief.

Fleur leaned over. "I 'ave it on very good authority, zat your Veela wants your fuckhole to sag..._at least _to ze size of a grapefruit! Still enough to be tight for your Veela Mate, to squeeze into your chamber...but far _too loose_ for anyone else to gather any real satisfaction from entering you.._.ever._"

Hermione looked at Fleur in disbelief.

"Now..." Fleur gasped, in a painfully aroused state. "I want to **fuck** you now, 'ermione..."

"Mmmmm...you don't say, my delicate bride! Really?"

"Oh, I do...I want to grab you, 'old you down, and enter you, 'ard! I want to dilate your 'ole, with such force, 'ermione, zat your 'ole will gape for me, az ze only one that can enter you, and gain satisfaction. Knowing you are worthless to anyone else, but me..."

"_Worthless_ is a pretty strong word, there, Delacour. Really?" Hermione said, attempting to keep a straight face.

Fleur was looking feral. "Yes, really. When I am done wiz you, 'ermione, zere will be no doubt who your body belongs to...my ownership, over you," she leaned in close to Hermione to whisper, "My member, ramming into you, coming in you...My Veela load, left inside in you...to someday, get you pregnant wiz our bebe..."

Well, Fleur had definitely woken everyone awake with that little tirade! The Golden girl blushed, but had a huge realization.

"Fleur!" She exclaimed.

"essssss...Fleur hissed, as she licked her lips, in response ."What? Haven't you realized by now little girl that Vela I designed for two things: to fight, and to _fuck_. And as I believe you've realized, the Delacours are the quintessential Veela..."

Fleur licked her lips. "No, come 'ere. I want to stick my large member in you, deeply, and remind you of zat fact..."

"Fleur! "

The Human on the verge of turning, was walking towards her with a predatory gaze. Fleur could feel herself beginning to transform. Her fingers were elongating, her back was tingling, where her wings were dying to break free, and she felt the phantom suggestions of a painful erection, beginning..

"Fleur! **Stop**!"

Fleur startled.

"Fleur...do you realize what just happened? Talking about what you are going to do to me...how hard you're going to 'fuck me with your hardened member' and such..."

"And...what of it?"

"Fleur," Hermione said, seriously, "It's the first time you've referred to something like this as "our need.' You spoke off you and your Veela ...as one! For the first time...finally!"

Hermione looked pleased.

Fleur, however, for her part , simply looked shocked.

**XOXOXOXO**

They would not get the opportunity to explore this further as the recess was called. The proceedings commenced again this time with a shocking twist. Apollene was not able to unveil the purpose of Harry Potter being there or anything regarding the message given to her previously by the elder Veela; rather the proceedings were hijacked by the tactical Etoille.

The eldest Mendoncia called for it.

"It"...Formally referenced as "Le sang duel de la mort", it was better known as "The Blood Duel". It was employed only in times when the honor had been cast in doubt upon their Clan or individual house, and it was well within the rights to call for the ancient tradition. In this case, it was the House of Delacour pitted against the House of Mendoncia. Etiolle Mendoncia was a smart old bird- her argument was claiming vilification and desantification of the Veela, but she took it on as a personal insult, instead. Importantly it would end and table any discussion and prevent Apollene from unveiling whatever little surprise She had in store vis a vis Harry Potter's appearance.

she never underestimated the Silver Fox; this was in part why every relative of her family was present that day, just about. Because at the Quorum vote held that day on the sacred Grounds, the blood relations of the Mendoncias outnumbered the Delacours by 3:1...

The discrepancy in numbers became readily apparent as they members of each household lined up on the pitch. The Delacour's fought valiantly, but they were quite simply just outnumbered. Frustrated by being sidelined, the onlookers were held back by a silent wall that separated them from the Duelists. Only blood members of the Delacour family or the Mendoncia family could engage in this fight.

Via a bit of borderline dark magic five of the Mendoncia's had finally subdued Fleur, and had her on the ground.

One set of experienced old eyes watched rapt, waiting to see the events that would unfold...It was in that moment Hermione stood up and _walked through the wall._

_T_he Mendoncias stood with their backs towards the crowd, oblivious of Hermione's imminent approach.

Wandlessly and wordlessly, the smartest witch of her era cast an _Expellerimalis _that had disarmed seven witches and wizards, simultaneously. A gasp from the audience erupted, witnessing something they'd never seen before: a multi-point disarming spell -issued without a wand, no less!

Ignoring the murmurs of the crowd, Hermione took the seven individual wands, as they flew into both of her hands. She clutched them tightly, eyeing the shocked Mendoncias and the quickly escalating situation. In the blink of an eye, Hermione would make a situational decision that would be talked about for generations.

The Mendocias advanced upon her, clearly in an attempt to recover their wands. Measuring her gaze at the mass that was starting for her, hoping to retrieve their wands by brute force. And that split second, Hermione did ..."it."

Her defining moment.

Looking skyward, she raised the wands in each hand, and lifted them up. The strange action caught her soon to be attackers off guard, and it cause them to temporarily pause. It was all the time she needed.

The Golden Girl shot the wands into the air, with a burst of pink flame, and burned them all to a charred ash.

"Nooooo!" Cried one of the Mendoncias. "My wand!"

"You son of a beetch!" Screeched one of the others.

It was only after the shock had worn off that they observed the situation closer. Their eyes had been drawn to the wands themselves that were set ablaze, understandably...

However, they soon realized the source of the incandescent fire itself was being emitted directly from Hermione Delacour - Granger's open _palm! _Several sets of eyes skated back and forth between the calm brunette and the wands in their destruction. It would appear that the Golden Girl had set ablaze the entire set of wands using the fire generated from her own set of hands...

_...Exactly _as the Veela do.

**XOXOXOXO**

Hermione looked at the mob of seven. Although the Delacours were rising, and looking a bit better, they remained physically subdued, still. Hermione didn't like it. Had she truly subdued the Mendoncias, wouldn't victory ensure the spells be lifted? Her battle-tested instincts were going haywire, trying to alert her to imminent danger. And, she noted, she still couldn't speak aloud.

That danger she feared would quickly reveal itself...

She felt a short jab on the back of her neck. A tip of a wand angled up into Hermione's now very clenched jaw.

"Keep you movements slow, n'est-ce pas? No sudden movements, please." Said the heavily accented female voice behind her.

Raising her hands to the air, she looked at her "captor," the last combatant who had snuck up on her. Hermione had counted everyone, she felt certain this person was a Johnny-Come-Lately, and as she took in the young girl, barely sixteen, wand hand shaking furiously, Hermione realized why she had not been counted.

The girl who was still dressed in her Beauxbaton's pale blue uniform had obviously not been there when the melee started.

_Likely summoned by one of her family members, _Hermione surmised.

The girl's eyes grew as big as saucers, when she realized who _exactly_ it was, that she had captured. "Mon Dieu!" She gasped. "You're...you're ..." her voice trailed off. Her eyes were horrified.

Since Hermione was still unable to speak, due to the throat capture spell, she attempted to soften her features and smile, doing her best to remain calm. The girl seemed on the verge of hyperventilation. Hermione's eyes couldn't help but to soften when she realized what an unwilling combatant this barely legal young woman truly was.

Her eldest sister yelled at her. Nathlee shouted in her typically unpleasant screech, "Bernadette! Ca suffit! Do it! Do it now, damn you!"

The young girls eyes widened, and her grip on her wand was noticeably shaky, as she clearly winced from the harsh words of the older Veela.

Hermione closed her eyes, exhaled, and silently entered the younger girl's mind.

_You don't have to do this, you know. You can be your own person. _She suggested to the terrified girl.

"I do...you don't know zem..." She whispered.

Hermione grimaced. _No, my dear girl, **you** don't know them. I learned a lot about them when I tracked the Veela case, several years ago. Collette, et al...they had a lot to share about your sisters. I feel as though I have a very realistic picture of them._

_"What is the problem?"_ Yelled the irritated mother. "Kill her, Bernadette! **Now**!"

Hermione closed her eyes, breathing calmly. _I forgive you, Bernadette..._ she braced herself.

But the killing curse did not come. Instead there was only a wavering young woman, torn, and crying, standing before her. She was staring at Hermione intently, her wand at her head.

"But...Maman! It...it is..." She cleared her throat. "It iz ... **'ermione Granger**! You are asking me to kill...'_ermione Granger_, c'est vrai?" The young girl asked in disbelief.

Her family expected her to assassinate, in cold blood, Hermione Granger?

Hermione Granger...her childhood _idol._

Hermione Granger, the teen who inspired millions throughout the wizarding world, the brains of the Golden Trio. The woman who had defeated an evil that would have surely ended the free world as they knew it, and most definitely, their kind. The woman who inspired a continent, and taught the world nothing is impossible, no matter how daunting the task seems nor the adversity one could face as a result. The woman who inspired her to study and to try for a job at the French Ministry, after graduation.

The woman who made her not feel so out of place in a family very out of sorts with her own personal beliefs.

The dour eldest Veela huffed. "Yes!" Her mother yelled, seething with anger. "Vat iz taking so long? KILL her!"

Young Bernadette Mendonca flinched at the harsh voice of her mother, and trembling, raised her wand, nonetheless. She pointed it at her hero, and swallowed.

"I'm sorry, Madame..." She whispered. "I'm so, _so very sorry.._."

The sacred grounds were completely and utterly _quiet._

Hermione's eyes were not afraid, nor were they angry. Instead, they were just filled with compassion for the young 16-year-old girl in front of her, asked to do too much of her, at such a young age.

Up on the hill, a very elderly voice, murmured. "Well, look at that... It unfolds, exactly as predicted..."

**TBC!**


	16. The Truth Shall Set You Free, Part II

**Tell Me Your Secrets**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

**Summary:** Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't _unring_ a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...

**A/N:** Loved writing this- love these two. They should've been Canon. Thank you those of you who held on till the bitter end.

**Chapter FIN. The Truth Shall Set You Free, part II**

The eldest Mendoncia had called for it. The Blood Duel.

Yet, the youngest eligible Mendoncia was now asked to finish it. She was old enough to fight, yet ironically not old enough to vote.

And yet Bernadette Mendoncia found herself central in the uncomfortable position of being asked to finish a battle she didn't morally agree with, against the woman who had inspired her growing up. Inspired her against the very people asking her to do these unpleasant things.

As a young girl from a well-to-do French family, She was a radical outsider who believed in equality. It set her apart within her own family. The idea that someone like Hermione Granger could exist in the world steeled her against the constant Taunting at the hands of her older siblings and abusive behavior from her "disappointed" parents.

Standing in her pale blue Beauxbaton uniform, her wand hand grew unsteady as she stared deep into the chocolate pools of compassion, the eyes of Hermione Granger-Delacour.

Although she had missed Apollenes passionate speech regarding Hermione's character and worthiness, she didn't need it. She knew her biography by heart. She knew all there was to know, publically available, regarding the traits of Brunette woman standing before her, at the tip of her wand. She had worshiped Hermione since she was able to read.

She _dreamed_ of being the next Hermione Granger, someday.

Ironically she found herself a standing in a position very much like Hermione's of many years prior: She was asked, while herself still a child, To take on an adult's burden that they themselves could not finish.

She raised her head, in her blue Beauxbaton's chapeau, and looked at her grandmother. Although her voice was quiet, it was calm and resolute.

"**Non! **I will _not_ do it!"

Gasps went trough the crowd, and her mother and grandmother stood, stunned.

Bernadette lowered her wand hand, and spoke again. This time, her inflection reflected her growing anger.

"I will _not_ bring harm to ... To the bravest woman history has known, in my lifetime! I will not do it."

The younger woman set her wand to the ground. "Madame Granger-Delacour...I _yield._"

The crowd burst into chants, applause, and wild cheering. Harry's voice might've been the loudest of all.

None of it was heard by the pair of staring at each other who had been in the dramatic standoff, however. Without a word, Hermione reached forward, and grasped the young woman to her breast, hugging her tightly. Bernadette began to tear, relief pouring through her.

"Actually," Hermione whispered , as she clutched the young woman tightly, "I have to admit...truthfully, that which you just did..._that_ might've been one of the bravest things **I've** ever seen, in my lifetime."

Young Bernadette could no longer hold her tears, and openly sobbed, clutching Hermione. Hermione rubbed her back, understanding the pressure that had been put on this girl.

Etiolle chose wisely not to focus her anger on her distraught young grandchild. Instead, she directed it towards the proceedings.

"Madame parliamentarian," she screeched. "there has been an egredgious violation of the rules of order! A non-blood relation of the House of Delacour entered the fight... _illegally_!" she said, with venom. "It is merit for an immediate disqualification!"

She folded her arms, victorious, knowing she was right.

The temporary parliamentarian looked over, nervously , to Apollene .

"Madame Delacour?" She asked, nervously.

Hermione kept her arm tightly around the terrified young Beauxbaton that had granted her mercy, as though to shield her. Hermione narrowed her eyes, and her gaze found Fleur's equally concerned one.

A Cheshire grin passed over the face of the silver fox.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, knowing instinctively her former mentor had a trick up her sleeve. She realized it was now "showtime," and they were about to witness what Apollene, in all her frightening glory, had prepared.

The Silver Fox spoke, clearly amused. "Ah, yes, about zat... Etiolle...well. It seems, actually, it should've never come to ze blood duel, in z_e first place._"

Murmurs passed through the crowd.

"Zere was a small matter of ze parliamentary count not concluding, actually." She gave a knowing look to the boy who lived, summoning him. "Monsieur Potter? You may now complete your task."

"Yes, Madame...with pleasure, Agent Delacour!"

He motioned off to the side, and in a flash of light and smoke , nine people apparated to the sacred grounds, with a tenth following shortly thereafter.

The Veela collectively gasped. Three Muggles, each accompanied by one French Auror and one British Auror flanking them, apiece, walked slowly to the center of the pitch. It did not escape anyone's notice that one of the Aurors was that of_ Ron Weasley_ , thus completing the "golden trio" trifecta.

He waved at his ex-wife, and gave her a thumbs up. Hermione felt a strange sense of relief washing over her, and smiled back at Ron.

Finally, the 10th person to arrive, Bill Weasley, concluded the unusual congregation. He arrived behind them all, warding off the area, while murmuring protection spells. It appeared they brought Britain's best curse breaker along, as well, to ensure the safety of the site. Once finished to his satisfaction, he gave Apollene a nod, then Bill smiled at _his_ ex-wife, giving her a wink. "We got your backs, ladies."

Etiolle scowled. "I hardly see how this-"

Apollene raised her wand to the other woman's face. "You will hold your tongue until everyone has had their chance to speak, Madame." The Veiled threat was clear in her voice.

The first Muggle moved forward. Facing the crowd they heard her utter a magic incantation, and the crowd gasped.

Before their eyes, dissolved the nondescript features of the average looking Muggle, replaced by the unmistakably beautiful Veela visage, replete with a dazzling thrall, revealing none other than...

_...Colette D'Antonio, _The lost Veela_._

The onlooking crowd gasped, and was stunned. After the initial shock and scattered screams had subsided, reality set in. Several onlookers fainted; many cried out in shock. Crying, her family members ran to her, embracing her. The reception was more than she expected, and the homecoming caused Colette to weep, openly.

"Mon Dieu! Colette...what?" mumbled the temporary parliamentarian, as stunned as everyone else. "How? Why?"

Colette pulled herself from the embrace of her family and spoke to the parliamentarian.

"Ze what and 'ow can be saved for later Mme. parliamentarian," she said, strength in her voice. "more importantly iz the ...**why**."

She looked to her two other Muggles companions, as they transformed into their Veela selves, once again.

The Crowd was beside itself, stunned. It seemed that today was full of unexpected surprises.

"Ze _why_," Colette explained, jaw set firmly, "iz zat we are 'ere ...to _vote._" She looked at the Mendocia contingent, a meaningful look that did not escape their notice.

"I see..." The parliamentarian said, solemnly. "Well, voting 'as..."

"According to the By-laws, any Veela may vote, so long az zey are above ze age of 16, and so long az ze vote iz cast before midnight of ze called vote." Colette recited. "_It iz before midnight_, Madame. We 'ave come to 'elp Mme. 'ermione Granger. 'ermione... ze finest person I ..we...'ave ever had ze privilege of knowing."

She looked at her companions, then over at Hermione, tears in all of their eyes. Colette continued. "Mme. Granger...ze British agent zat gave no regard to 'er own personal safety, to 'elp save ze life of a French woman, **me,** one who everyone else 'ad ...thrown away."

Hermione shook her head, frustrated.

"Colette..._no!_" Hermione looked pained. "You didn't have to do this ...you didn't have to blow your cover!"

Colette laughed, noting Hermione's agitation. "Agent Granger...once again , you prove my point ! Your concern iz _precisely_ why I am here. Only _you_ would zink it more important for someone to keep their cover -protected by your amazing spell -zen to come and vote to take charge of ze most powerful Veela clan in ze entire world!"

She looked at Hermione, her eyes full of obvious devotion and gratitude. "Only **you**, Madame, would zink _my_ personal safety was more important zan power. And that Mme. Granger, iz exactly why I am 'ere, today." She smiled at Hermione, then looked at Fleur. "And while I don't know you, Madam Delacour, I do know zat if Hermione 'as chosen you -you must indeed be worthy... "

With a final smile towards the Golden Girl, the newly reborn Veela spoke. "...therefore, I cast my vote... for the _House of Delacour_!"

The crowd exploded, cheering at the new development.

A voice behind Colette rang out. "I cast _my vote_ for the House of Delacour!"

Then a third, also for the Delacours.

After the boisterous noise had died down, the fuming Mendoncia family looked on, seething with anger at the three new appearances.

The eldest finally spoke. Etiolle's voice was positively dripping with venom. "Mme. parliamentarian, we still have the issue of the fact the vote is a **tie**. Secondly, and more importantly, we have the _illegal appearance_ of a nonblood relative into the blood feud, thus requiring sanctions against the house of the Delacour!"

She looked towards Apollene. "It merits immediate disqualification!"

A gasp went through the crowd.

_The_ fu_cking bloody legal system_, Harry thought to himself. _Bollocks...It really does suck everywhere._

Fleur looked over toward the smug appearing twins, wishing she could kill the smug_ l_ooking twins on the spot. Once again, it was Hermione's gentle voice that brought her out of her blood fueled rage.

"Fleur, calm..." She murmured.

"'_ow can you say zat_, Hermione? You know she's right! Zey beat us! Zey beat us , on a fucking technicality! " Fleur's eyes were darkening.

Hermione winked at her mate. "Remember what I said, Fleur? One should never count out a Delacour!" With that proclamation, Hermione walked to the front of the pitch and faced the crowd. She then looked over towards the miserable appearing parliamentarian and the two heads of house.

The famous Gryffindor, raised her hand, silencing the crowd. She spok_e. If I may Mme. parliamentarian_,_ may I have the floor, to defend the actions of today?_

The crowd flew into an immediate frenzy, cheering wildly. For Hermione Granger-Delacour had opted for the dramatic effect: she addressed the crowd, not in English or French, but rather in the secret language of the Veela..._fluently._

"What the bloody hell did she just say?" Ron whispered to Bill.

"Dunno, mate. But I think it must have been something good..."

The startled parliamentarian responded. Of_ course, Mme. Delacoeur-Granger_, the floor _is yours. You have five minutes with the rebuttal period Of two minutes by the opposing house._

Hermione graciously smiled_. Thank you, she_ replied, a charming smile on her face_._

She winked at Fleur. Turning to the crowd, her face was serious again.

_Hello, quorum. I appreciate the privilege of being allowed to address these comments, here, on the Sacred Ground. I realize that it is slightly unusual that a Muggle-born, non-Veela and certainly a nonblood relative of the Delacours, was able to transcend the wall barrier, and pass through to enter the blood duel._

Every eye was on her, fascinated.

_And I can explain, I think. I apologize for not speaking up before now, but I myself wasn't sure until that very moment.…_

She paused, to look at Fleur, lovingly_._

_Even my own mate is unaware! Respectfully, I offer you this: it was not actually I, Hermione, who entered the battle. Rather, it was the already headstrong gestating child that I currently share, _she patted her stomach_, with my spouse and mate, Fleur Delacour-Granger, who made that rather impulsive decision._

_A _collective gasp erupted. Hermione continued, unfazed.

_Our child, rushing off into battle,_ _dragging its host mother along...without a clue of the odds or the dangers..._she laughed. _if I could figure out the French translation for_ "_Harry Potter" I suspect that's_ _what will be the name of our future child!_

The crowd laughed. Harry cocked his head, having heard "Harry Potter" amidst all the babble.

_While I must be honest and admit that I despise your biased blood requirements, as they remind me too much of a system that nearly ended in my death as well as my best friends and many others..._she gestured to Harry and Ron. _It is what it is..._.she sighed_. And although I despise the fact I am propagating such narrow-minded traditions, in my opinion, at least I can assist in what __**should**__ be ...to be._

She looked over to the head of the House of Mendoncia, graciously offerin_g, No offense or slight is meant by that, again, it is only my opinion as an outsider, and I realize I am biased towards the House of Delacour..._

The Golden Girl looked back towards her mate. Gesturing towards Fleur, who had walked up and stood next to her and Bernadette in a protective stance, Hermione concluded in the language of the Veela.

_Mme_._ Fleur Isabelle Delacour-Granger, I should add, will be able assume the head of this clan, as destined. We are expecting, and as our child is a Veela, conceived between her Veela self and I, this meets the requirement you have that her legitimate offspring and heir be of Veela blood, thus, her legacy shall continue._

The crowd went berserk, and it was so raucous it almost drowned out her final remark. In English, Hermione concluded, "I have said it many times ...I have learned in big ways and small, _never count out A Delacour_."

The crowd burst into wild applause, and it was only moments before they rushed the podium, congratulating Apollene, Armanud, Gaby, the expectant parents, and hugging Bernadette and the three lost Veela.

It became so loud and boisterous, the words of the matriarch of the house of Mendoncia were muffled, but still unmistakable to their intended target. Etiolle graciously offered Apollene her congratulations, but quickly moved on to the Golden Girl. She ignored her granddaughter completely, and she hissed quietly, "Madame Granger...this will be subject to verification, I'm sure you realize."

Hermione replied, "I would expect no less, Madame."

Etiolle nodded, and apperated away from the Sacred Grounds. It did not escape anyone's notice that she was the _only_ one to congratulate the family. The absence of the House of Mendoncia did not dampen the levity, however.

Watching with a knowing grin, up on the hill, the elderly Veela in attendance chuckled.

"Well, Hermione Granger is exactly as I expected! She certainly does not disappoint, does she?" she asked, rhetorically, to her attendants. The previssat looked at her senior advisor, and offered, "why don't you all take off the rest of the day...go down there and join them in the festivities."

He looked at her, confused. "what festivities?"

She said "Oh, there will be festivities, momentarily."

"Are you sure?"

She gave him a knowing look. "Of course I'm sure! I am the Previssant!" She snorted, incredidelously. "Besides...I have business to conclude with my successor, privately." She apperated away, leaving her five stunned attendants in her wake.

**XOXOXO**

After many hours later , and many conjured bottles of champagne later, the impromptu festival in the Delacours honor lasted into the hours of the night complete with a bonfire.

"Why doesn't the ministry do this type of thing, at the conclusion of their proceedings?" Ron drunkenly asked his brother.

"because they've got sticks up their elbows in their arse, little bro... besides, who on the Whizmagot would you really want to drink with? I mean, come on!"

A pair of blonde Veela sisters came up to them, the younger one winking at Ron, who immediately turned purple.

"I rest my case." Bill said, laughing.

**XOXOXO**

The future matriarch of the Veela clan was just a little by as they say, imbibed. She was having a wonderful time with the clan and her mate; she and her my knee had had the long and difficult conversation of the fact that they were most likely going to have to relocate to France. Hermione took it surprisingly well given she had no real ties to England other than Harry and Ron and Hogwarts her family was long since gone to her.

Fleur, and their unborn child, was her family essentially. The Clan Was certainly doing everything within their power to make her feel welcome and included within their fold. Many were intrigued by her original spell to mask the thrall. Fleur smirked with pride, overhearing whispered conversations Speculating that Hermione Granger was a genius.

She was very pleased that she convinced the lost Veela, granted under the heavy influence of alcohol, to re-enter their society again. They agreed amongst the three of themselves, given Fleur and Hermione were the future of the clan that it was worth another try.

It wasn't until late in the evening, when half of the clan were naked, and after multiple events required her attention as the heir apparent, that she realized that she had not seen her own little sister in quite awhile. As there was a momentary break in the dramas requiring her intervention, coupled with Hermione launching into a lengthy discussion on quantum physics with one of the professors from Beauxbaton's, ( boring her to tears) that Fleur decided it seemed a good time to find her sis. It was thirty minutes later when Fleur found her parents off to the side, away from the festivities, her mother looking very stoic.

"Maman...Pappa," Fleur asked, "Ou est Gabrielle?"

_"Gone_." Apollene said, her voice strained.

"Fleur... Come here, darling." Her father said. "Its...well, we have something we need to tell you..."

**XOXOXO**

Hermione was pretty sure she had been fondled by at least 40 Veela; some transformed, some human, and a few not all appropriately. She was looking for her mate to rescue her, and as one of the few sober people left- human or Veela- she could use a civilized escape. Despite her determined hunt, Fleur was nowhere to be found. Hermione closed her eyes, and cleared her mind, using their bond. Her eyes shot open, as she realized, with a start, that Fleur was in distress of some type! Again concentrating, she realized she had to find her...but the only hint was the suggestion she was near some _body of water._

Hermione rushed to the closest friendly face. "Colette...is there any water around here? Around the sacred grounds?"

"Oui. Le Lac du Enchante...it iz zat way," she pointed at a path that led towards the forest. "Why?"

"I'll be back ...I'm going to head that way."

She gave both Colette and Bernadette, who had struck up quite a conversation, a kiss on the cheek, and snuck off towards the lake before any of the other starstruck Veela were able to corner her again.

**XOXOXOXO**

She finally found her mate at the lake, looking out to the water.

Fleur looked majestic and untouchable in that moment. Bearing an unreadable expression on her face, Hermione recognized it as the same expression Apollene had had after reading the note during the proceedings.

"Fleur?" Hermione said, gently.

Fleur turned her head, slowly, not expecting to have company. As soon as her eyes made contact with Hermione's, The former Gryffindor knew something was terribly amiss. Fleur looked completely and hopelessly lost, and she had clearly been crying for an extended period of time.

"Bloody hell, Fleur! What's wrong? What happened?" She rushed to her mate, grasping her hands.

Hermione gasped.

"Fleur...your hands! They're _freezing_!" She felt the blonde's cheeks, then her forehead, and added with alarm, "You're _freezing_! My God...we've got to get you out of here, and get you warmed up!"

"Ah, in a minute, ma belle... I need just another minute. One more..." She gazed back out to the water, her eyes far away.

Hermione frowned. "Do you suppose you're going to tell me what's wrong, anytime soon?"

The sadness in the blonde's eyes was positively untenable. She sighed, "I don't zink...no, it iz not allowed, yet."

Hermione was bordering on apoplectic. "_What the bloody hell_ do you mean 'it's not allowed'..._what's_ not allowed?"

"So many secrets...Hermione. Too many secrets." The stoic blonde said in a cryptic manner. She fixed her cerulean blues towards her mate. "My dearest 'ermione, zere will come a time...not for a while, but it will come," Fleur sucked in a breath. "I will 'ave to ask you, 'ermione, someday in the future ..." Fleur's eyes filled with tears, as she continued. "I'm going to ask somezing of you, and I will need you to do it ...regardless of 'ow opposed to it you might be...please, for me...can you do zis?"

"I don't know, Fleur." Hermione answered, honestly. "What is it, exactly?"

Fleur's face was grim. "I'm not sure exactly, myself. But it will apparently be ze thing zat ensures ze world is kept...safe."

"Then, I suppose I haven't a choice, do I?" Hermione Frowned, at the unusually cryptic request.

"I know we share everything, normally..." she paused. "I promise you, Hermione, we will always be a relationship of equals. And no secrets...no lies...no 'idden truths...wiz zis one exception. Zis iz one zing I need you to do for me, no questions asked. I don't know when I will need to ask it of you, but I promise you... I will."

"Okay, Fleur. Do you want me to wait for you?"

"Always." Fleur gave her a sad smile. "Of course."

**XOXOXOXO**

_**Platform 9 3/4, 11 years later**_

It was a time of excitement for every family on the platform. The promise of school and the future to come, a tradition that had happened for hundreds of years for young witches and wizards began with the famous all the families however, every eye could not help but to be drawn to the large and boisterous group that was closest to the platform. The collection of Weasley's, Potter's, and the Delacour- Grangers drew everyone's attention, as the fascination that happens with celebrities, generally does.

The second generation of the Golden Trio drew curiosity, fascination, and adoration. And the thrall emitting off of the Veela contingent didn't hurt, either. The second generation of the Golden Trio seemed completely unaffected by the attention, fortunately, having grown up with the scrutiny all their lives. None more so than Eva Apollene Delacour- Granger, The firstborn daughter of the headmistress of Beauxbaton Academy, Hermione Delacour-Granger, and The French Minister of Magic, Fleur Delacour-Granger.

She had grown up under the weight expectation of too far powerful parents, also inheriting the title of Heir Apparent of the largest and increasingly powerful clan of Veela in all of Europe.

11 years ago, the Delacour-Grangers made the decision to move to France and uproot. Fleur's attitude towards her birthright changed radically, and began to take responsibilities as head of the Clan very seriously. She accepted a position in the ministry, and apprenticed behind her mother for a year within the Clan, for assumption of the leadership of Clan Delacour. Apollene turned over the reins to her daughter a year after they moved.

In the decade in which she had assumed leadership, she made some fundamental changes in the direction of the clan. It became far more organized and she appointed a council of trusted Veela to support her lofty objectives. She insisted they no longer live in secrecy and hiding, but rather reclaim the power and authority she felt was the Veela's birthright. She was a savvy political negotiator, although many whispered it was actually the acumen and strategies of her wife, Hermione.

Regardless, under her leadership, she unified the most powerful contingents of their clan together, solidifying them from within. On her counsel, were members of the Mendoncias as well as the D'Antonios: Colette and Bernadette, specifically. It came as a shock to no one that the two would bond five years later. What was shocking was that Etiolle Mendoncia as well as Apollene Delacour would become fast friends, serving as Fleur's senior strategists, working well together. Apparently, world domination was a cause that they could both find common ground, both having uncanny talents For the job.

Fleur's policy was a radical departure from the leadership of the past 600 years that felt that Veela needed to be secluded and remain in hiding, in order to survive. Fleur proved Omniscient, and the Veela quickly took a large influence in the shaping of politics, business, and the arts in France; it wasn't long before the exerted their influence on a larger scale globally. Within a few short years, it became apparent that it would be impossible to win an French election without the support of Clan Delacour behind the candidate; and as Fleur climbed up the ranks of the ministry herself, she decided she was tired of propping up inferior candidates. Eventually, she just took control of the agency herself, with the largest margin of victory in French history.

Meanwhile, her wife was happy to live in her shadow. The academic powerhouse took a teaching post at Beauxbaton's. Hermione was surprised to discover how much she absolutely loved it - the focus on academics was unlike that of Hogwarts, and the discipline of the students was incredible. In short, Hermione had found "her people." Serious academics that were dedicated to the art of knowledge acquisition and preservation. It wasn't long before the golden girl herself climbed the ranks herself; however, in her case, it was grudgingly. Eventually, she could no longer ignore the clamor of the Provost and counsel; amid much protest, the former Gryffindor assumed the top reins of the Academy; becoming headmistress of the school two years before their eldest child was due to enter.

It was one year after her unanimous appointment that that the charismatic Eva Delacour-Granger, nicknamed "Harry," by her family, dropped the bomb. As was her M.O., she shocked both of her famous parents into speechlessness. She informed them, over dinner, that "Instead of Beauxbatons, she would be entering Hogwarts Academy for Witchcraft and Wizardry" the following year.

Hermione dropped her fork, as Fleur's mouth fell agape. Her two younger brothers and two younger sisters looked around the table, nervously.

The youngest, Fidèles, began to tear up. "Zat is so far away, Harry! You can't go!"

Eva held up her Hogwarts's acceptance letter, and with a winning smile, announced in her flawless English, "Oh, but I can!"

Hermione rose from the table, sending her good friend, Headmaster Neville Longbottom, a scathing howler, the likes of which he hadn't seen since those of his Gran's, in his 1st year. He immediately owled back, patiently responding that she had been on the acceptance list since the day she was born, and it was fully up to her whether or not she matriculated at the school. Either way, it was out of his hands.

The girl that had been the most photographed child in all of France for the entirety of her childhood, the darling of the press, dropped the bombshell the following week to the public.

In her press conference, she explained with a maturity far beyond her years that the "artificial pressures" would be too much with given her mother's role, and the entire nation, following her every move at Beauxbaton's. She wanted to be judged on her own merits, good or bad, and she wanted to have a more "ordinary" exisistance, which she felt would be obtainable at Hogwarts. There, she explained with finesse, she would be "just another student."

Fleur scoffed, bitterly. "Like she will be 'just anozzer student,' anywhere!" she whispered indignantly, to her mate, during the press conference.

"_Mmmm_," murmured Hermione, amused as usual, watching the two females, who were so very much alike.

The one taking it hardest of all, that day on Platform 9 ¾, however, was the four year old, Fideles, clutching on to her eldest sister's leg for dear life. "No, 'arry! I will not let you go!" She sobbed.

Eva bent down, whispering something in her sister's ear. Something apparently so magical and consoling that the little girl stopped crying. "Really? You mean it?"

"Cross my heart. I promise." She said.

The little girl's eyes shown brightly. "And you promise you'll write, everyday?"

Interrupting, her eldest brother laughed. "Aw, she's going to be too busy for zat!" Her brother said. "Quiddich, boys, trying to beat Maman's O.W.L.'s , comme ca- " he was interrupted by a painful _whack!_ to the side of his head.

Eva's eyes were on him, furious.

He rubbed his head, ruefully. "Merde! What waz zat for?" He complained.

She had a finger in her brother's face. "_I said I would_, so I will! You should learn about keeping a promise, brother." She said, the warning in her voice.

Gently, she bent down to her littlest sister, whose eyes were fixed on the older girl. "_Every day_, my precious one." She said, kissing her hand, and looking at her reverently.

The young girl beamed. "Okay, zen. I guess you may go."

Eva's eyes were amused. "Thank you."

She stood up, and hugged and kissed the remainder of her extended family, and the half dozen or so "inner members" of Veela that had come as well. Etoille Mendocia commanded, "You give 'em 'ell, Eva! Show zem, zose British sops, what ze Veela are capable of, you hear?"

"Yes, Madame." She laughed, giving her the bis goodbye. She was rather fond of Etoille, and adored the heated discussions between her and her Grandmere.

Her farewell with Fleur was businesslike, and she asked that she give her respects to Aunt Gaby who was not present. Fleur nodded. However, her businesslike demeanor vanished as she turned to her other mother. She almost cried immediately, as she looked into the eyes of her _other_ mother, Hermione.

"I'm sorry, Maman." She whispered.

"Don't be sorry, dear. No regrets." Hermione hugged her tightly. "For what it's worth," she added, eyeing the throngs of French press that were leaning over the railings trying to get a shot of the famous girl, "you made the right decision, God help us all…"

She clutched on to Hermione, one moment longer.

"I love you, Maman. So much. Thank you, for understanding. Help Mother understand, okay?" She kissed Hermione, goodbye. The final kiss, of course, was saved for her precious youngest sister, who was holding up fairly well.

She turned from her family, wheeling her blue trunk and her downy owl along, she graciously acknowledged the photographers and the French press with a wave. They went crazy, and the flashbulbs exploded. Eva ignored all the people staring at her as she walked towards the two boys waiting for her, patiently.

She joined her longtime best friends, James Potter and Robert Weasley, sons of the boy who lived and Ginny Weasley, and Ron Weasley and Luna Lovegood, respectively, as they offered their friend a sympathetic look.

"Oy, Harry!" Robert mused. "Doesn't it ever get bloody old? All the press following you around all the time?"

She shrugged. "Meh. I'm used to it. I'll admit, I can't wait to get on that damn train, though. You bring the chocolate frogs?"

He looked at her incredulously. "Wha-? I thought you were bringing them!"

She looked furious. "Zut! It's _your uncle's_ damn store, Weasley!"

James broke up the fight. "He's pulling your leg, Harry! Blimey, you need to get yourself sorted out, girl! Don't you see the bulge in his robes?"

She grinned. "I thought he was just glad to see me!"

"Why would I be glad to see your ugly arse?" He grumbled. "Just be ready to lose, big time. You did remember the cards, right?"

She rolled her eyes, and the three conspirators broke out in secret laughter, and boarded the train, together, their parents watching, with various levels of concern and amusement.

**XOXOXOXOXOX**

**_PLATFORM 9 ¾, SEVEN YEARS LATER_**

It seemed like just yesterday they were here, dropping off their rogue eldest child for school. Fortunately, they hadn't lost the other three, as they sensibly chose to attend Beauxbatons. However, it was a given they would hemorrhage the youngest to Hogwarts. It was just they, the grandparents, and a few of the Veela, as Beauxbatons had started a week earlier.

As they kissed Fideles goodbye, they were thankful that it wasn't nearly as much of a circus, this go round. As Fleur began to tear up, with Hermione rubbing her back, the youngest assured them she would be fine.

"Maman, stop worrying! What can go wrong? My sister iz ze _Head Girl_, for Goodness' sakes!"

"Zat is _precisely_ what concerns me, ma Belle!" Minister Fleur Delacour-Granger replied, only half-kidding.

As if on cue, the 7th year appeared, bright eyed. Hermione marveled at the woman her daughter had become. So much like Fleur, with a few qualities of hers…but still very much her own woman, somehow.

A _gorgeous_ woman, at that.

All eyes were on the Head Girl, as she seemingly glided over to the new first year. "Ready, squirt?" She grinned.

Fideles squealed. She took off running, and she ran directly into her sisters' arms, with a leap. "Zere you are!" She kissed her sister's cheeks, a dozen times. "I waz afraid you would be to busy to come over!"

"Never for you!" She picked her up, hugging her. "C'mon, I hear the Potter's kid brought a stash of chocolate frogs, in the last carriage, which I can neither confirm nor deny."

"Really?" She said wide-eyed.

Eva shrugged, smiling. She waved at her family, as she let down her youngest sister from her embrace, and took Fideles by the hand. The youngest Delacour-Granger was animated, and talking a mile a minute, her older sister nodding, amused.

As the two figures walked off, hand in hand, their mothers watched them. "Well…" Hermione mused. "At least those poor owls will get a break, not having to fly back and forth everyday."

"Oui." Fleur agreed.

They waved, as they watched the Hogwarts's Express pull away.

Listening to the sound of the whistle as it carried their eldest and youngest away, Hermione's mind inevitably drifted to t_hat day_. The day she knew would eventually come. Hermione's eyes were far away, as she recalled the moment when Fleur finally called in her card, and asked her mate for a favor.

**TBC- one last chapter.**


	17. Part III

**Tell Me Your Secrets**

**Author**: Ladyfun

**Rating**: M. Why? Because.

Summary: Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't unring a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...

**A/N**: This is the end, my friend...as is my nature, we divert into randomness at the end. Thank you to the die hard reviewers - you know who you are. This might be my swan song, so thank you for reading this and my other works, 1 - you caught me. True dat. Thanks you to everyone who took the time to read, and especially to those who took the time to comment.. Thanks for the reviews, in no particular order:

Roselia Rose - hopefully all 10K of your questions were answered, I always look forward to your intelligent and hilarious commentary.  
Cuccino2002-glad to provide the chills. You are my homegirl - take care womanly.  
GISA103- people like you made me keep updating. thanks for all the encouragement  
FufuTheFallenAngel-thanks for the reviews and I love your moniker  
monkgirl - yes, I'm evil. you knew that already. -thanks for all the reviews  
Lacie De Guzman- violence is not the answer. ;) thanks for gutting it out without an ER visit.  
TJK78-Thank you thank you.  
littledragonflyson-thank you for appreciating the breadth - people sometimes only want canon, and well, when someone notices and appreciates …I appreciate it.  
Laura All Round- I won't tell anyone about the begging. Promise. What happens in Geek Club, stays in Geek club….  
SL13-Yep. Cliffys R Us.  
WolfDragonGod-Somehow I thought you might dig this. thanks for reading.  
Leti2a-thanks for appreciating the Veela.  
LA Bee123- one of the nicest reviews I've had. thank you.  
Chaosrin - thank you for your steady influence.  
Icy-Windbreeze- thanks for the reviews_._

Finally, thank you to my twin flame-3,000 miles weren't enough...you are my muse. Perhaps someday you'll read.

Thank you, everyone else, who read this and my others...It was appreciated.

Okay, enough of that touchy feely crap, lets get on to the, well, the _touchy feely crap._ There is some slight incest (warning) kinda in the Elsanna flavor...avoid if this is squicky to you.

**Chapter FIN. The Truth Shall Set You Free, Part III.**

_The Delacour-Granger Residence, Fideles' 1st Year, Paris._

Apollene gave Hermione a concerned look.

"Vat iz all sat banging, 'ermione?" She had arrived for her usual Sunday brunch with her daughter and her daughter-in-law.

Hermione, for her part, seemed relatively unconcerned. "_Hmm_," She said, cocking her ear to listen for the "banging" her Mother-In-Law referenced. "_Ah_, yes. That. Well, I think that is your eldest daughter, now throwing things at the _left_ wall of her study, since she's already ruined the _right_ wall, completely."

"_Mon Dieu!_ Aren't you going to do some zing, 'ermione?" She asked, concerned.

Hermione gave her a blank look. "Such as, what?"

"Je ne sais pas...I don't know...go in zere, and stop zat nonsense, for one!"

Hermione laughed. _"I'm not going in there for a million galleons,_ Maman! " She chuckled. "_You_, however, may feel free to do so. Please note, I gave my reservation towards that idea..in advance." Hermione had an amused look that she didn't bother disguising in the least, as she tied an apron around her sundress.

Apollene shook her head at the nonsense._ "Please_ tell me zis _Boule de folie_ is not still over Eva's decision to work in ze British Ministry, instead of ze Ministry in France..."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, saying nothing, her lips pursed tight.

"_Merde_!" Apollene remarked, appalled. "You must be keeding me, 'ermione! It 'as been over _three days_, now, since she told Fleur!"

"Mmmm."Hermione agreed, knowingly. "Indeed, it has, Apollene."

Apollene threw her hands up, in disgust. She and Hermione went into the kitchen together, to prepare their brunch. Apollene was muttering and swearing, intermittently, under her breath. "J'ai donné naissance à la folio..." She grumbled, to herself, when one of the sounds of breaking glass sounded particularly large. Looking at her daughter-in-law, and former law-enforcement partner, she groused, "Surely, she didn't zink there was a _chance in 'ell_ zat Eva would leave England before Fidèles graduated from 'ogwarts, right?"

"One can dream, I suppose." Hermione replied. "But, no, I don't think she was...hm." Hermione mulled over her statement. "...realistic, no."

"Bordel de merde!" Apollene muttered. "Does ze insane Fleur not remember 'ow attached she waz, to her _own_ sister, growing up?"

Hermione smiled. To herself, she mused, _You have no idea just how attached they actually were, Apollene_. Out loud, the Golden Girl merely replied, "I guess not."

As they began to dice the mushrooms, Apollene narrowed her eyes at Hermione, hands on her hips, holding the parring knife aloft. "My dear daughter...you do not remember zat I am a Master Occulmens, 'ermione?"

"Yes, why?" Hermione asked, thinking. Then, she realized. "Oh, Crap..." Hermione uttered. "..of course."

The Silver Fox raised her eyebrows, knowingly. "_Do you really zink_ , 'ermione, zat anyzing escaped my notice, in **my** 'ouse, 'ermione? Please! Give me some credit."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Well, I..." she swallowed. "Wait! And you were...okay, with that? With them, specifically?"

Apollene shrugged her shoulders. "Really, what ozzer choice was sere?" Apollene's arms were gesturing, wildly. "Fleur was like, zis incandescent flame! In her prime, a woman larger zan life, and** so** unattainable...which only made her more desirable. Just..._everyone_ wanted her, 'ermione..." Noting the look of jealousy on Fleur's mate, Apollene quickly added, "But no one interested 'er, until_ you, _of course. Plus, she waz smart enough to realize sat zey just wanted ze "idea" of Fleur, and not the _real_ Fleur." She chopped, furiously. "...my poor Gaby waz always drawn to 'er like a moth...my poor Gaby. But, it kept Fleur 'onest..."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, curiously, as she began on the scallions.

Her mother-in-law sighed. "Fleur...she nevair wanted to let Gaby down, you know. It waz perhapz ze most effective deterrent towards bad behavior...and zen, she met you, zank Merlin, 'imself! So in ze end, my Fleur was fine. But my Gaby..." Her voice trailed off. "She nevair 'ad a boyfriend or a girlfriend, but for different reazons zan Fleur. She waz so...introverted. Always observing, 'aving zees "visions," and such. Observing life, but never living it."

"That's kind of tragic, actually."

"Oui. Iz it such a surprize, zen, zat zey turned to each ozzer?"

She grimaced, hearing a loud crash from above, but ignored it, as Hermione was doing. "Gabrielle was so painfully shy, **so** shy, 'ermione..." She gave her daughter-in-law a knowing look. "But zen again...I guess you _already_ know zat." She chuckled.

Hermione turned bright red. _Surely she doesn't know..._

Apollene said nothing, merely offering, "Zen why is it so different for Fleur's children? If anyzing, it's worse! Eva couldn't take a dump wiz out some photographer jumping out of ze bushes, at 'er. Ze public's fascination wiz her iz so beyond me!" She sighed. "Where was she, Eva, to find love, 'ermione? Whom could she trust, really, ozzer san zose closest to 'er?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "_Are you suggesting_ my daughter is in love with...my other daughter?" She said, in disbelief. "As in, _romantically_?"

Apollene smiled. "Non! It iz not one loving ze ozzer, silly! What I am suggesting is... zat zey _both_ love each ozzer!" She gave the inherently prim Englishwoman a knowing look. "So...really, should Fleur be surprised? 'onestly, what chance did ze French Ministry have...against love?"

"Apollene...you're insane."

Another crash, and the sound of something expensive shattering was heard, upstairs.

"Apparently, it runz in ze family."

**XOXOXOX**

_Hogwarts Grounds,_ _Fidèles' 6th Year, Scotland._

The second and third years had definitely been "the awkward years" for the youngest Delacour-Granger Veela. Adding to her misery of her body's hormonal mess was the loss of protection from her larger-than-life older sister who had been the Infamous Head Girl, during Fideles' first year. In her second and third year, without Eva Delacour-Granger on the prowl, the Slytheryns considered her fair game, without the watchful eye of her big sister "Harry" on their asses. If it weren't for James and Robert, her life within Hogwarts would have been _torture._

But the youngest Delacour-Granger managed to survive, and miraculously, her forth and fifth year, she _blossomed_. She finally let James talk her into trying out for the Quiddich team, and as fate would have it, she was amazing. The extra athletics helped work off her baby fat. That fact, combined with her Veela growth spurt of almost a foot in those two years, allowed the ugly duckling to inherit her Veela birthright, as she filled out...in all the right places. _Fidèles_ became the Swan. Annoyingly to her, she also managed to cultivate quite a thrall as she went through puberty. Despite her intense thrall, she never was able to transform completely, much to the dismay of her Veela Mother and Grandmere.

"She's just a late bloomer," Her non-Veela mother reassured them, ironically, as the voice of reason. "Merlin's Beard, you all worry too much! Give the poor girl some slack! When the time is right, our baby will do it...just wait."

In her sixth year, she still had yet to transform. However, her family's worry bothered her less and less, as she managed to spend time more and more with her beloved Eva. Her sister would laugh, heartily, as Fideles regaled her with tales of outrunning various boys and some girls, and other ridiculous antics, during their secret Saturday afternoon lunches the sisters conducted every week. Fidèles would listen, with rapt attention, as Eva told her about her adventures in the English Ministry, and how she was managing. She had been put in charge of a squad, despite her young age. Despite her ever increasing workload, however,Eva was wonderful towards her little sister. No matter how tired she was, she was always there for her. Additionally, once Fidèles made the Gryffindor Quiddich team, the young Auror went to every game of her younger sister's; and the younger Gryffindor would beam with pride, when she would spot her sister in the stands.

_She is **still** the prettiest girl at Hogwarts, even today!_ Fidèles mused, in wonderment.

As proud as she was to show off her famous Alumni sister , it was actually their private times that she cherished most. The times when the two could just talk and be ...themselves. It was during one of these moments, during a picnic, that they had an interesting conversation.

"So...you think you'll ever marry James or Robert, someday?" Eva asked, looking at her sister, amused.

"Oh, vomit! I zink I actually just...vomited, Eva. _In my moutz_. Zanks, _a lot_."

"It's just a question, Squirt."

"A _dumb_ one."

"Not so dumb.." Eva said, defensively.

"You know, for zomeone who graduated first in 'er class, you're kinda dumb, 'arry. Tell me...'ave you really not picked up on ze fact zey might be more into ... each ozzer, zan me?" She remarked, while rolling her eyes, and folding her arms across the traditional Red and Gold trim robes of Gryffindor that she wore.

"_What?_ James and Robert are ... light in the loafers?"

Fideles chucked a Bertie Bot at her older sister. "Merlin's beard, you're getting stuffy, working up in zat Ministry of yours! Who says "light in the loafers"? Really, are you like, 70 years old?"

"Does it count if I _feel_ like I'm 70 years old?" Eva asked, grinning.

"**Merde!** I'm done talking to you!" Fidèles huffed, theatrically throwing her hands up in the air. She started to stage a walk-out, standing from their picnic, and preparing to walk off. Eva laughed, and shot her arm out, lightning quick, and tugged the younger girl back down. She gripped the smaller woman, amidst her pretend sputtering protests, and curled her, snug into her body.

The joking atmosphere stopped, and Eva began to stroke her sister's soft blonde hair, humming. They stayed nestled like that, content, for awhile.

Eva finally spoke. "Well, has anyone caught your eye, other than your two gay best friends, baby sister?"

Fidèles gave her a look that was pensive. "Peut-etre... Oui. Er, I don't know, actually. But ... I'm waiting."

"Waiting? For what?"

Fideles shook her head, nuzzling in deeper to her sisters neck, and closing her eyes. "I dunno...Maybe until I get older? Je ne sais pas...It'z like great art. I don't know exactly what it iz...but I'll know it when I see it."

**XOXOXOXOXOX**

_Location Classified-Somewhere in Great Britain, Fidèles' 7th year._

Eva's rising star burned brightly.

And no one stoked the flame more, than the star herself. She was borderline reckless, taking insane risks that often had large payouts, as a result. Her mother kept a watchful eye on the British Auror's exploits, and was updated frequently by Minister Potter.

It was during a case involving crimes against Veela that she overstepped. She had been following the case for over 5 months, and the perpetrators had been able to trap and subdue several Veela, worldwide. There was strong evidence the criminals were on English soil, and she followed a lead that led her squad into danger. She was foolhardy, not waiting for backup, and took them in, fearing the trail would go cold if they waited.

The squad had always relied on Eva when times got tough- Eva in her Veela form was the baddest of the bad asses. No one messed with her. She jokingly dubbed herself "The Dark Art," to the disapproval of both of her mothers. However, her squad was severely outnumbered, and to her horror, she realized she wasn't able to transform into her Veela form! Eva would not be able to rescue them from this horrible situation.

The criminals had figured out a means to prevent her transformation...

She pondered the brilliance of their criminal minds, shortly before she was knocked unconscious. She lapsed in and out of consciousness over the next several hours, vaguely realizing they were being transported somewhere. She heard muffled voices with clarity only once, as someone said in a thick accent, "Kill the rest, but keep the bitch alive...she's worth our weight in gold."

It wasn't until the Legionneres from the French Ministry, led by none other than Minister Fleur Delacour-Granger herself, broke into the holding room and rescued what was left of Auror Team One from Britain, that Eva realized exactly what her arrogance had cost...

She was the only one left alive.

**XOXOXOXOXOX**

_The Residence of Auror Eva Delacour-Granger, Fidèles' 7th year, England._

Fidèles snuck away from Hogwarts, through the tunnel under the Shrieking Shack, and apparated to her sisters' flat in London.

The news of the blow out between Fleur and Eva was told to her in three separate letters, from her siblings. She frowned, realizing Eva herself had not shared it with her – and they shared everything. Arriving at the Auror's flat, she easily passed the wards, as Eva had always left a pass-through for her youngest sister. She was horrified when she saw her.

She was a wreck.

Eva's eyes were red rimmed, and she looked like she hadn't eaten in days. Firewhiskey bottles littered her living room, and the normally tidy room was a mess. Eva lay there, sleeping on her couch, in a state of half transformed, half human. Remnants of several cuts and bruises remained on her body, causing her sister to frown, realizing her Veela healing powers weren't working effectively on her body.

She awoke with a start, when Fidèles placed a gentle hand on her stomach, and her Auror instincts kicked in, as she tackled her to the ground, with a growl, hand around her neck.

"Stop! Stop! It iz me, sister!" She gasped, pinned underneath the fierce and incoherent woman.

Eva blinked. "Fidèles?" Although her grip around her neck softened, her eyes grew angry, and her claws extended. "Tell me they didn't send you…that's low, even for Mother!"

"What are you talking about?"

Eva's eyes grew red, darkening quickly. "Did she? Did_ Mother_ send you here?"

"Bloody 'ell, non!" She said, trying to push the semi-drunk woman off of her. Eva only clutched her tighter.

"How do I know you're not lying?" She narrowed her eyes, and was starting to transform, further.

Fidèles sighed, closing her eyes. She opened them, slowly and looked into her sister's eyes. She put the unrestrained hand to Eva's cheek. "Eva…you _know_ me! Please! You know where my … loyalties lie." She stroked Eva's matted dirty-blonde hair, trying to calm the escalating Veela above her.

"Then why are you here?"

"For real?" Fideles became angry. "Well, I was worried, for one! For the first time in my entire life, my big sister didn't write me…twice! Secondly, our brothers and sisters told me what happened. I came, immediately." She grasped Eva, tightly, tears falling from her eyes. "Oh, Eva, why didn't you tell me, yourself? "

Her gentle touch, and soothing murmurings somehow calmed the upset woman. Eva reverted, slowly, back into her human form, her molt dropping around them. Cracking her neck, she looked down on her little sister. Despite calming, she still held her pinned underneath her.

Bleary eyed, Eva answered. "_I was afraid_ ….I was afraid that you believed them…believe Maman..."

Fidèles held her sisters' face in her hands, and said firmly. "Never."

They held each other's gaze for a long moment, and it was the youngest who finally broke the silence. "Let's get you into ze shower, ay? You smell like a winery! While you baze, I'll make you some dinner, oui?" She rolled from underneath her sister's pinning, standing up. She reached out her hand, and pulled Eva to a stand, guiding her into the shower. Handing her older sister a washcloth, she turned on the water. Fideles tested the water, then smiled brightly to her big sister.

"It'z ready! You 'ave ten minutes, and zat's it! Dinner will be served, n'est-ce pas?"

As Eva stepped into the shower, she looked at her beautiful younger sister, gazing at Fidèles with a tortured expression.

"Why, Fidèles? Why do you believe in me, so much? Especially now, when...no one does?"

The smaller woman shrugged, as though it were inconsequential. "_I just do_. It's just like I love you, Eva... I always 'ave. Zat will never change." She said, firmly. Fidèles smiled brightly as she exited to fix dinner.

Eva decided to follow her younger sisters' advice, and got into the shower. She let the purging water wash over her grimy body, miraculously feeling just a little bit better.

**XOXOXOXO**

It was late in the evening, and the two sisters lay on the couch in each other's arms, watching the fire, silently.

"Well, Eva? "Fidèles asked. "Do you want to... tell me? About what 'appened?"

"**No**. I fucked up, though. Badly."

"Can you undo it?"

"Nope."

"I see. Can you…make amends?"

"Maybe."

"Then zat's what you need to do, sister. Start working on your plan." Fidèles said, simply.

Eva sighed. "You make it sound so easy, Squirt."

"It iz zat eazy."

She flipped over, from facing away from Eva, so that she was now laying on top of her sister, as she folded her delicate hands across Eva's chest. Eva tried to ignore the twinges developing in her body from that simple action. Twinges she had, of late; and had been having, more frequently, when Fideles was her usual touchy self. She tried to focus instead on what she was actually saying, instead of how good her body felt, from her sister laying on top of her. She forced herself to keep her eyes on those of her younger sisters, instead of taking in the delicacy of her body, trying to remain…appropriate.

It was harder to do, these days. Fidèles was a woman, now, and of legal age. And it was undeniable, the sex appeal she had developed. She was soft, and feminine, so unlike the somewhat masculine edges that Eva felt she had. Eva was so much like Fleur, a hard and crystalline beauty; and Fidèles was just…soft.

Soft, and beautiful.

_Kind. _

_Loyal. _

_**Amazing.**_

_Desirable…_

_Desirable, what?_ Eva shook her head, furious at herself. Hadn't she been disappointing enough, already, for the week? Did she have to think debauched thoughts about her little sister, as well? It was the object of her desires, Fidèles, that finally shook Eva out of her own dark thoughts. Pounding on her head, she playful hollered, "Space case! 'allo? Let's play a game," She giggled at her big sister.

"What?" Eva croaked, eyes lidded.

The younger Gryffindor looked at her mischievously. "Let's tell each other a secret…you must share one, at least one... that we've never shared with each other, before. Okay?"

Eva arched an eyebrow. "Are you telling me there are actually things remaining in this world, that I don't know about you, Squirt?"

Fidèles laughed. "Oh, oui!"

Eva frowned, pretending to appear dubious. "Okay, then... you go first."

Fidèles looked at the fire, then back at her sister, still laughing. "Okay, 'ow about zis fun fact: I _argued_ with the sorting hat, and demanded I be put into Gryffindor, with you!"

_"What?"_

"Absolutely true! He waz going to put me into _Hufflepuff_, Bloody Hufflepuff! I threatenzed to leave ze school and nevair return, buring 'im on ze way out ze door."

Eva giggled. "I can't believe he let you coerce him into that!"

Fidèles regarded her sister, tenderly, and brushed her fingertips across her cheek. "I would 'ave died if he 'adn't put us togetzher, in ze same 'ouse."

Eva cleared her throat. "Oh, the drama of an 11 year old."

"I still feel ze same way, Eva…" Fidèles wasn't smiling, as she looked at her, intensely. "I…" The air was heavy. "_I would die,_ if we weren't together, Eva."

"You might not always feel that way…"

"No." Fideles cut her off. "I will _always_ feel...zat way." Suddenly, Eva felt her sister pressing forward, _moving_ closer. She could feel her heat, and her body began responding, without her consent. Eva's eyes widened, in horror, as she felt herself become aroused.

"Fidèles...what are you …."

"_Tell me you don't feel ze same_." She said hoarsely. Fidèles fingers were gripped her, tightly. Her breath was labored, as she looked down on her big sister. Eva tried to clear her suddenly dry throat.

"Well, you're my sister, of course I feel that way…"

"Not like zat!" Fidèles eyes were dark. "Time for another secret, sister." She said, her voice, lower, this time. "It'z a big one, actually." She licked her lips. "I'm...I'm actually only your …**half**-sister, more or less."

"**What?**" She tried to sit upright, but Fidèles forced her back down, snaking her leg between Eva's as she pinned her sister underneath her. It landed on Eva's most sensitive part, and she gasped at the unexpected stimulation. The younger Gryffindor leaned forward, towards Eva's ear, her lips ghosting over the lobe. As Eva felt her hot breath on her skin, she shivered…with anticipation.

"It'z true, big sister."

"Fidèles," she croaked, "explain yourself!"

Her younger sister chuckled. "Surprise, right? Six montz ago, I waz taken to meet **_La Veela Prêtresse_**."

"_What?"_

"I know….I know. It waz a command appearance. Mamma and Mother didn't even know. It waz sere zat I met her, La Pretresse. Her identity waz revealed, to me." Her eyes were serious, looking at her older sister. "I couldn't believe it, truthfully. Eva... It was … it iz, actually..._Gabrielle!_"

"**What?** Aunt Gaby?" Eva said, shocked. She felt like she had said nothing but the word "what" in the last thirty minutes of their shocking talk.

"Oui, your Aunt Gaby."

Eva looked confused. "I think I must still be hung over…isn't she your Aunt Gaby, too?"

Fidèles looked intently at her sister. "No. It waz zen I learned, she iz not my Aunt. Gabrielle...well. She iz actually my…my mozzer..."

Eva eyes widened.

"And furthermore, my mozzer gave me permission…" The young girls' voice trailed off, and her eyes darted about the room, nervously. She didn't meet Eva's curious gaze. The younger girl appeared to be concentrating. Eva finally interrupted.

"Permission?_ For what_?" Eva finally asked.

The younger Gryffindor licked her lips, momentarily. "For …**zis**." Fidèles answered, as she simultaneously leaned forward, capturing Eva's mouth in a _ferocious_ kiss. Eva froze, equal parts shocked that her fantasy was coming true, and equal parts horrified, all at the same time.

"_No_…" she mumbled. "Fideles, no..."

"**Really**? "Fidèles asked, pulling away. She looked at her, with an almost hostile glare. _"No_?" She ran her hands underneath Eva's robes, stroking her breast, underneath. "No?" She confirmed. "Your answer iz to tell me ..**.**_**no**._ Iz zat why you've never 'ad a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, Eva?"

She continued to knead her breast, causing Eva's breath to speed up, then to hitch. Fidèles squeezed the nipple of her breast, rolling it hard between her fingertips. Eva closed her eyes, exhaling, as the motion caused a burning sensation to shoot between her legs. She was tingling in her most sensitive area, in the most tantalizing manner. She felt herself becoming wet, between her legs, under the ministrations of her younger sister's fingers, and accidentally let out a groan of approval, as she shifted, uncomfortably.

"_No_?" Fidèles hissed. "Iz zat why yo_u stare at me,_ just a leetle too long, and inappropriately, sister?"

With the hand not manipulating her big sister's nipple, she started to unbutton Eva's robes, exposing her, fully. Fidèles' breath caught, slightly, as she took in her sister's toned body. She looked at Eva, regarding her, with blatant lust in her eyes. Licking her lips, she continued, her voice lower.

"No? Tell me...if zat iz your answer, why iz it zat you _dream of me_, at night...and not just ordinary dreams, Eva! Lurid dreams, sister..." She leaned over, capturing the now exposed breast, taking her nipple in her mouth, sucking it, harshly. The sensation caused Eva to gasp. Fidèles murmured her approval, as she pulled off Eva's breast, with a bite to the nipple. "Iz sat why you tell me..._no?_" The overly hard nip caused a sensation that hit Eva to her core. It caused the older Veela to hiss.

Fidèles added, smugly, "By ze way..._you talk in your sleep_, sister." She grinned a carnal grin, one that belied her young age.

She looked smug.

With one smooth motion, Fidèles sat up, and pulled her own robes off with a single swoop of her arm. Eva could no longer fight her arousal or the temptation of her sisters naked and sinfully perfect body, hovering above her. Eva's hands shook, in part from the disbelief that her carnal fantasies were actually coming to pass. Eva timidly placed her hands on the smooth hips that were straddling her, presently. Her fingertips ghosted over the skin of the woman who had been the subject of her nightly fantasies, so inappropriately, for so many months...

And now, said fantasy was looking down at her, with an insolent smirk. "Non, Ma Belle? Oui, J'comprende...if it iz No? Is No, your answer, alors..." Fideles put the weight of her wet center down, squarely, on her sister's equally damp center, hot with arousal. She continued. "Let me ask you zis: I suppose zen, zat you've never secretly been... _relieved_... zat I nevair took a lover, eizer, correct? Iz zat right, Eva? You were nevair glad, zat I didn't 'ave someone _take my virginity_, away from _you_…"

Eva frowned, realizing she was furious at the thought of someone else touching Fidèles. She had always attributed her "overprotectiveness" to being her eldest, and most devoted, sister; but in retrospect, she always knew there was more to it, than just that. She grew angry thinking of anyone-male or female- touching Fidèles in an intimate manner.

Her Fidèles.

She gripped the younger woman's hips, harder, leaving slight indents in her skin. The younger woman laughed. She looked at her sister, her eyes paradoxically playful and full of lust. "Do you know what my name means, Eva?"

Eva shook her head, no. She didn't trust her voice in this moment.

"It means…_loyal_. Do you know whom zat loyalty iz for, exactly?"

Eva looked up, knowing the answer. She nodded.

"Z_at's right_, big sister." With a swift motion, Fidèles finally leaned forward, and laid her naked body, flush, on top of her sister. The first sensation of their exposed skin connecting and touching, in such a magnificently sinful manner, caused them both to gasp.

Fidèles husked into her sisters' ear. "I waz born…_for you_. For you to 'ave me…your one true and loyal love, Eva. " She kissed the side of her elder sister's neck, dipping her tongue out, tasting her skin. Fidèles hummed her approval. The gesture elicited a growl from the tortured elder sister.

"I waz born to take your sickness and sin, from you..."

Fidèles removed her lips, drifting back to her sister's ear, to which she ghosted in a low and solemn voice, "Don't you know? Haven't you realized it yet, Eva?" She peppered gentle kisses across her ear, causing Eva to shiver. "Oh, Eva... since ze day I waz born, I waz meant for one zing, Ma Chou. _To be yours_."

Her lips drifted across Eva's neck. "And ever since...I've always been…yours." She sucked her earlobe, causing Eva to growl. "My dearest big sister...J'appartiens à vous."

Eva lost it. Her eyes flashed red, in warning.

With a strength only bestowed on magical creatures such as the Veela, Eva stood up, deadlifting Fidèles' weight along with her own. Gripping the younger woman tightly to her pelvis, her fingers digging into her delicate back, she grew more aroused feeling their heat intermix. Walking caused their intimate parts to grind against one anothers', and it caused Eva to growl again as she carried the lithe Fidèles tight in her grasp.

Fidèles grinned, burrowing her face in her sisters' neck, breathing in her scent; she realized that her sister was headed in the direction of her bedroom. Suddenly, she stopped right in front of her room. Her hands were gripping Fideles' backside, propping her close to her core. Their naked torsos were milling against one another with each step. Eva's eyes were dark with lust.

"If you don't want this, little sister, _you need to say so_, now. Right now! Because...once I taste you... I'm not going to be able to turn back." Eva said with finality.

Her younger sister looked at her, her eyes full of love, devotion, and lust.

"Walk _faster_, Eva..."

With an evil grin, Eva stopped only once more, to shut the bedroom door behind her.

**XOXOXOXOXOX**

When Fidèles was absent for the second day in a row, Headmaster Longbottom finally contacted Hermione.

"Her sister had sent an owl, and assured me she would return, yesterday. But that was yesterday, Hermione, and now it's...well, today!" He remarked, clearly flustered. He was loathe to get his favorite student, the one who had started many of the charitable clubs of Hogwarts, in trouble with the loose cannon he knew Minister Delacour-Granger could be.

He was more chilled when he heard the absolutely calm voice that responded.

"Thank you, Neville. _I'll take it from here_. And I assure you...Fideles will be back in classes, first thing in the morning."

Has he pulled his head from the floo, he wondered if he made a tactical error and informed the wrong parent, after all.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

There are moments in your life one will never forget, implicitly.

Every excruciating bit, seeded into one's memory, down to the last detail. This was one such moment, for the four women involved. As Fleur Delacour-Granger broke through Eva's rudimentary wards, and subsequently broke down Eva's door from its hinges, it was actually Hermione Delacour-Granger that had the privilege of walking in first, to discover her oldest daughter and her youngest daughter, in Eva's bed.

Hermione gasped, as she took in the realization of what she saw.

Her daughters were sixty-nining each other, in the disheveled room, reeking of sex and sweat; worse, her daughters were _moaning_ like muggle porn stars.

"_Oh my fucking God!_" Hermione exclaimed, doing an immediate U-turn and walking out of the room.

There was an immediate flurry of activity. "**Merde**! It's Maman!" Squealed the youngest, as she jumped off of Eva.

She wrestled the bed sheet off the ground, and threw it over their highly indisposed bodies, covered in two days worth of sex remnants and stale sweat. From the other room, she heard Hermione's shaking voice, at a fever pitch.

" **Fidèles Rose Delacour-Granger,** you have fifteen seconds..._and I mean fifteen_! In which to _get dressed, _and then I am taking you back to school. **Immediately**!" The quiet command of the Golden Girl's voice terrified everyone present, including Fleur.

Eva and Fideles rushed to find her clothes, and she huffed. Eva did a quick Accio, then spelled the clothes back onto her lover, and then spelled them to look not so rumpled.

"Two seconds left. Get out there...and I love you."

"_Je vous aime_...pervert." The younger Gryffindor smiled, and walked out, casually into Eva's living room.

Eva almost started laughing, as she heard Fidèles ' overly melodic voice. "Oh, hello, Maman! Mother! It's nice to see you-"

"_Spare me,_ Fidèles Rose!" Hermione's sharp voice cut in. "Hold on to my arm...now! We're leaving!" She said in a huff. Eva heard the _pop!_ signalling their apparation away, likely immediately outside Hogwarts. The Heir Apparent chuckled to herself, wondering if her Maman was more upset over the fact that she found them engaging in sexual relations with their.._.relations_, or alternatively, that in order to engage in said relations, she had skipped two whole days of classes. She felt sorry for Fidèles, regardless, but laughed anyway.

Then, she heard the unmistakable _click click click_ of her _other_ mother's heels, realizing that both mothers came...and _only one mother left_.

"**Merde!**" She muttered, pulling the sheet up to cover her inappropriately naked self. When her regal mother entered her bedroom, it was to Eva's credit that she met Fleur's eyes head on, and did not look away as her fierce mother entered the room.

Fleur said nothing, initially.

The cereculian blues merely looked around, just taking in everything, silently, her arms folded across her perfectly taylored power blue suit. Eva held her breath, as Fleur slowly walked over to the bed.

_Click, click, click..._

When her mother plopped down next to her, kicking her heels off the side of the bed, Eva was sure she was going to have a heart attack on the spot. Shocking Eva further, Fleur removed a bottle of fire whiskey and two shot glasses from within the depths of her expensive pillbox purse, complete with an extendable charm. The French Minister said nothing, at first. Then, she spoke in a quiet voice.

"Take zis, 'ere, Eva." She handed over a glass to her eldest, which the shocked British Auror complied with dutifully. Wordlessly, Fleur poured each of them a shot, of some murky looking, potent smelling beverage.

_"Salut._" Fleur offered, and the two women downed the harsh liquor.

They both grimaced, immediately. Both women, looking frighteningly alike at that moment despite the absence of garments on the younger, regarded their empty glasses, reflectively. Fleur gave a sideways glance at her daughter.

"Anozzer?" Fleur asked.

"S'il vous plait." Eva responded, holding up her container.

"Bon." Fleur nodded, and poured them both a double.

It wasn't until the fifth shot that Fleur finally made actual conversation. "_Zat feather over zere_," she noted, pointing to the molt in the corner, "zat _grey_ one...it doezn't look like your molt, Eva."

The Heir Apparent choked on the drink she was in the midst of taking. "Er...well, it isn't, Mother."

She arched a sculpted eyebrow. " **Fidèles**?"

"Yes." Eva replied, meekly. "You're...um...very observant, Mother."

"Mais, oui. Once an Auror..."

"...always an Auror." Eva finished.

They both chuckled, as Fleur poured them the last shot. Before they hoisted it up, she looked Eva in the eye. "Don't deflect. Tell me...'ow did you do it?"

"Do_ what_?"

Fleur rolled her eyes, emphasizing how well sculpted her eyebrows were. "Get her to sell one 'undred Weasley Wizard Wheezes in one lunch period...stupid! Non! What do you zink? _'ow did you get her to transform_, finally?"

"Mother,_ really_?"

Fleur looked at her.

Exasperated, Eva finally answered. "Well, _sex_, obviously."

Fleur looked down into her glass, swirling the last remnants of the murky liquid. She hummed, a bit, then observed, "No...Je ne pense pas.**Not** sex, obviously!" The veteran Auror gestured around the room. "Clearly, you'd been 'aving a cornucopia of sex, in ze last 48 hours, Eva, oui?"

Eva's face burned scarlet red, and she wished she was an unregistered animigus at that very moment.

Fleur continued. "...zat molt looks to be less zan six hours past, maybe eight _at ze most_."

Eva narrowed her drunken eyes, taking in her mother. Her powers of observation, even intoxicated, were frightening. "You're scary, you know that?"

"So I've been told. _Spill it_." A mischievous glint appeared on the normally serious woman's face.

Eva sighed. "I can't believe I'm telling _my mother_ this..." She closed her eyes. "..if your perverted little mind really needs to know, then fine!" Eva downed her shot.

Fleur looked at her, waiting. Eva set down her shot glass on her side table, and looked at Fleur, and scowled. The gesture caused her mother to laugh at her.

"Still waiting, Eva."

"Fine!" Her daughter huffed. " _Anal_, if you must know, nosey!"

Fleur raised her eyebrows.

_"Twice_." Eva added.

Then, to her surprise, rather than the screaming rant that she generally received at the hands of her fierce Mother, she was met with an insolent grin.

"Anal..." Fleur mused, downing her shot. "Mon Dieu, she's so much like Gaby, it's not even funny...!"

Eva's mouth fell open.

"Tell me...fingers, or your Veela appendage, zat appears for "just such an occasion", down zere?" She asked, grabbing Eva's crotch, for emphasis.

"Hey!" Eva huffed, affronted, pushing Fleur's hand away. "You are insane, just like they say, Mother!"

"No, I'm French! And Veela." She hiccupped. "I'm a French Veela. I _live_ for ze kind of zings..."

Eva stared at her mother, her brows furrowed.

"Stop. You'll give yourself wrinkles." Fleur chucked, setting down her glass on the endtable.

After a moment, the smallest of grins hinted on Eva's face. She looked at her mother, and spoke after a beat. "Well, if you must know...both."

"Both?" Fleur replied, raising her eyebrows. She grinned. "Bien fait, Eva!"

Eva looked as though she was mulling over how to proceed. _To hell with it_, she thought, and out loud, she said, "Well, I am your daughter..."

"_Zat you are._" Fleur chuckled, the vestiages of a strange Veela pride creeping into her voice. "So...do you have any more of zis crap, in 'ouse?" She raised the empty bottle of firewhiskey.

"Bien sur..." Eva reached under the bed, retrieving her "special bottle."

Fleur laughed. "Under ze bed? Non. I keep mine in my sock drawer...'ave to 'ide it from 'ermione."

"The sock drawer, huh?"

"Oui. Everyone looks through ze underwear...mais alors, no one suspects ze much maligned, often forgotten... sock."

"Mmmm. Good advice."

And in the most bizarre turn of events, Eva would remember that sentinel moment as being the defining moment her relationship with her mother did a 180 degree spin. It was the beginning of their _real_ relationship, to her mind, their second chance. It became a mother-daughter relationship that would only deepen over time, and solidified the bond between the leader of the most powerful Veela Clan in the world, and her trusted heir apparent.

A relationship remembered as one of the tightest Veela kinships modern history would know.

**XOXOXOXOXXOXOXO**

_Azkaban Prison, England. Fifteen Years Later._

"Thank you. I shan't need more than, oh, fifteen minutes."

"Take all the time you need, Minister. We're honored to have you here, ma'am."

The heavy door swung open, and the French Minister held her nose at the dank smell that immediately assaulted her nostrils. Her eyes, given her Veela sensibilities, quickly adjusted to the low light, and she grimaced as a rat ran across her foot. Holding her parcel in her hand, she walked to the two disheveled high-security prisoners, chained to the wall in front of her.

She unlocked the wrist shackles, with wandless magic, to their surprise. Longstanding scars had bit and scarred the skin where the shackles had been.

"Well, well, well…to what do we owe the honor of the Golden Girl's appearance in our humble abode?" the first prisoner sneered.

"Golden Girl..._funny._ That's my mother, **not** me."

She glared at another rat, as it darted directly across her foot. Recovering she pulled a parcel from within her robes and opened it. Succulent smells of French food and wine wafted into the grimy cell.

The formidable French minister slid it, within their reach. "Please…eat. Drink. There's lunch for both of you."

They ate, ravenously, gulping down the food. The cell was utterly silent save the hasty intake; The French Minister, Eva Delacour-Granger, watched Nathlee and Nicole Mendoncia gobble down the food, without pause. Nathlee, wiping her mouth, after she finished looked up at Eva. Not bothering to hide her suspicion, she gritted, "To what do we owe the honor , Minister?"

Eva spoke her voice measured. "I find myself in a bit of a dilemma." She looked around the cell with obvious distain. "Clearly even you understand the crimes you have been found guilty of…are so heinous in nature, I'm sure you realize that prison is not...undeserved."

Neither twin spoke.

"Nathlee, you are unquestionably a psychopath. You are brilliant, dangerous, and terrifying. You have been my countries number one enemy for a decade." She sighed, running her hands through her hair. "However, you are… a Veela, and therefore, by definition, that makes you… **my **psychopath."

She grimaced as the rat made another appearance. She picked it up within her hand and squeezed it throwing against the wall. For the first time, her counterpart smiled.

Eva scowled. "And the thought of you rotting in a _British_ cell, makes my stomach turn ...even if you deserve everything you get here."

Nicole's eyes flickered, momentarily, with hope at the Minister's words, but Nathlee's eyes remained hard. "We—" She corrected herself. "**I** don't want ze Delacour's charity." She grimaced, with distain.

Eva shook her head. "I already told you ...I'm_ not_ my mother. Be glad for that – she hated your guts, for some reason. That's impressive, as Maman hated _no one_." The French Minister chuckled. "I'm not a Saint, like she was. So… don't confuse me with the noble Golden girl, by any stretch! This _isn't _charity, I assure you."

The elder looked curious, finally. "Go on."

"I have a _...business proposition_ for you. And the reason I brought the food and wine is so that no one can accuse you of being in an altered state of hunger, while negotiating with me. I didn't want you to feel coerced."

Nathlee continued to stare at her. Even Azkaban had yet to break her.

The poised Minister continued to explain. "I have made arrangements for you both to be extradited back to France, despite your sentencing crime committed here on English soil. The British government agrees that you are…."she paused, selecting her choice of words carefully. "…that you are our issue to deal with. Good or bad." She added.

They both breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God! "Nicole said, quietly.

"So, regardless of the decision you make you will be returned to France, rest assured. Alors, without beating around the bush, your choice is this: serve your sentence, as agreed , however in a wizarding prison in France. Or, alternatively, return to France and..." Eva paused, thinking of how to approach this. Exhaling, the Minister added, "...where you will come to work for _me."_

The two witches looked at her, incredulously. "Répétez-vous? I thought I 'eard you say you wanted me to _come work for you_."

"I did."

Nathlee laughed out loud. "Oh, _the arrogance_! I thought I'd heard eet all..."

Surprisingly, Eva remained calm, merely looking at them, with her arms folded on her lap. Nathlee continued her rant, while Eva waited it out. When she had sputtered out, the French official continued.

"Look, I understand. It seems ...ludicrous, really. I do not suffer fools, however, and I want to tell you something in absolute truth: there is only one thing worse than being-as you put it, so eloquently- _under_ a Delacour," she looked at the prisioner, directly. "and that's _being _a Delacour, Nathlee."

"Explain."

Eva sighed. "Explain...really? I think you know the pressures, well, that come with being born into our respective families...c'est vrai? I understood your burden a lot better over these past few years; I grew to know your Grandmere well in the last years of her life. I understand _ a lot better_ than you think I do. With each of your escillating exploits, I've asked myself, '_what drives you, Nathlee? What could possibly cause you to betray your people?'_ What I finally concluded, with the help of your grandmere, and others of course, is that _you and I_ are...not so different. Honestly, it's partly random luck that has me sitting where I am, verses sitting where you are."

The prime minister chuckled, adding, "or, most likely, for us both to be sitting here, against that wall." She let the statement sink in, before she spoke again.

"There will be several conditions of your freedom, should you choose to come work for me… I want you to know that, up front. Firstly, you will resume treatments and medicinal therapy with a competent MediWitch of my choosing, resuming your mental health care you had when you were a child, before you quit when you got older."

Nathlee grew enraged. **"Putain!** Zat iz _private!_ How _dare _Grandmere-"

Eva put up her hand. "_Etiolle is not the reason I knew this,_ Noelle. It's irrelevant how I know! The bottom line is you _need_ your treatments to be even-keeled, functional, and not so damn angry all the time! _ Why the hell_ do you **want** to feel this way- so angry and frustrated? _Why_?" Bending down to look her eye to eye, she continued in a softer voice, she added, "Look, I've never been in your shoes, but my understanding is that today's potions have improved significantly since the last time you took them. Nathlee, it's not going to be so horrible... I promise you."

Nathlee still looked furious, but Eva soldiered on.

"You will have full-time surveillance, but you will be allowed to live privately. You will not be allowed to use port keys, or leave the country. There will be a restraining order between you and your former victims, requiring you to maintain certain distance, and non-apparition."

The proud woman arched an eyebrow. "And what will I be doing...being your personal slave? Show ze world your dominance over ze 'ouse of Mendoncia, and 'ow far zey 'ave fallen?"

Eva looked angry, but she quickly calmed her features. "If we are to be honest, here, the House of Mendoncia is doing _just fine._ It's **you** that has fallen from grace... _not your family_."

Nathlee fumed further, whereas her younger twin looked ... remorseful.

"Aren't you tired of being so angry all the time? You're smart you're brilliant your innovative…you can run magic around the people who hold you captive! Nathlee, you can do better than this!" She raised her voice, gesturing around the cell. "But I can't undo the fact that your actions in the past have earned your present situation. But what I can offer you is a chance to change your future... and It is entirely up to you."

"What would I be doing, exactly?" Despite her guarded tone, she was clearly interested.

"You would be the senior consultant to a new department that I'm forming. It's called "The Department of International Homeland Security," dealing with issues of national and international security threats. Then after 18 months or so, depending on how your metal health MediWitch says you're doing, you would assume command of this post, and become its Director."

"Nathlee!" Nicole exclaimed, excitedly.

The hardened woman looked stunned. "Have…have you gone crazy, Eva? **Me**? Do international law enforcement? For wizards and muggles, alike?"

Ava laughed. "My senior advisors seem to think I've gone a little crazy, yes. But I think I'm crazy-brilliant! Think about it! Who better to help us defend the country against known and unknown threats than the person who managed to stymie the best of the best for the last 15 years, as a criminal mastermind?"

"So, zis deal of yours... 'ow do you know I won't just turn around, and fuck you?" she said, critically.

Eva was silent, mulling the question over. "That's a good question, Nathlee." She gave the despised Veela a serious look. "I suppose primarily because my sources tell me you prefer dicks to chicks. You don't swing that way...even a little bit. So, I think I'm safe."

"Yes, but…wait,_ what_?" Nathlee said, prepared to argue. Finally catching the dry joke, her eyes shot up, to meet the amused look on the French minister's face. Then something miraculous occurred: the depressing and dank cell rang out with the unfamiliar sound of laughter, as all three witches went into a near fit, joining in together.

"You are terrible, Madame!" Nicole giggled.

Wiping tears from her eyes, Eva added, "Okay, all inappropriate sexual innuendos aside. Honestly, Nathlee? I know what drives you…I understand _your currency._ I know **you**."

She stood up. "You need to prove yourself ...and you're smart enough not to blow it. You recognize this as what it is, and I'm just merely giving you the opportunity, the vehicle, as well as the platform and resources to do it. I believe you won't fuck me, professionally speaking," Eva added with a wink to Nicole, "if for_ no other reason_ that you **want** to tell the world at large _"fuck you! I'm better than you, and I rose above this.' _That's my theory anyway. If not, I can assure you, you will return to prison."

She collected herself, and dusted off her pencil-knit skirt. "But I assure you, as your Minister and fellow Veela, it will be under more humane conditions than... _this_." She looked around the cell, disparagingly.

"Some would say zat's more zan I dezerve, Minister."

"And some would be right – for now. It's up to you to earn it, and prove them wrong."

The minister gathered the things she brought, and prepared to go. Almost at the door, she turned back, momentarily, and added, "I'm not going to lie… it's _not_ going to be easy. People hate your guts, Nathlee. You're going to have to work twice as hard, to get half the credit as other people. People won't be fair to you; people will whisper behind your back... some will openly continue to hate you. It's going to test you on every level. But at least it's your decision, Nathlee. The decision is yours. Think it over...I will send an -"

"**Stop**." Nathlee interrupted. "I'll do it."

"Wait - really?" The Minister asked, sounding slightly surprised.

"Yes. I_ am_ insane, remember?" She laughed. "But I 'ave one condition, Eva: my sister goes free. Exonerated _completely._" She sighed, ignoring her loyal sisters words of protest. "None of zis was 'er doing; 'er crime, eef it iz one , iz zat she's l_oyal._" Nathlee grimaced. "She never committed any of ze acts we were charged wiz... **I did**. I did zem all."

Eva paused, thinking of something from her past. With a cryptic smile, she said, "How very _Gryffindor_ of you, Mademoiselle Mendoncia," she added, with a chuckle. "but_ entirely unnecessary_. It was a given Nicole would be exonerated. There was evidence confiming what you've already said, it was just never brought to light. The prosecutors felt her complicities warranted sentencing, in addition to yours. But that can change, I promise you that."

"So, do we 'ave a deel?"

She walked over to Nathlee, whose wrists had magically re-shackled, and she reached down grasping her dirty hand, firmly. The two witches shook hands on their brokered deal.

"Prove me right, Nathlee. I'm counting on it."

**XOXOXOXOXOX**

_The Élysée Palace, France. Ten Years Later._

Two figures walked, side by side, down the grand hall. Several members of the security detail walked ten paces behind them.

The taller of the two looked to her colleuge. "Nathlee?"

"Oui, Madame President?" She responded, dryly.

"You_ owe me lunch_."

The older witch looked at Eva, cooly. "Seeing az 'ow I prevented your death zis week,_ yet again,_ I zink _you_ owe _me_, ze lunch, Madame President."

Eva Delacour-Granger made some huffing noises, but continued walking. "**Yes**, but you poisoned the assassins illegally, woman! It resulted in _a lot_ of paperwork for me! You know how I feel about paperwork." The beautiful blonde grimaced.

"Mmm." They had arrived at the Cafe, reserved for only the highest level of the directorate. The diners cleared a path, leaving a wide berth for the President and her Senior Advisor to head towards their usual table. The Presidential Guard scanned the room, as per protocol. The lead agent nodded, gesturing the two ladies towards the table.

The one they ate lunch at...every day.

They seated themselves, and after ordering their usual, they ate in comfortable silence for a few moments. Finally, the President dabbed the corners of her mouth with the napkin, and her blue eyes shot upwards. "Okay, Nathlee. I'm going to bring it up, again..."

She groaned. "If zis is about zat Branleur, Monsieur Harry Potter, again..."

"Look, Nat. He's been_ very lonely_ since Aunt Ginny died! She's been gone almost as long as my parents have...and, well, he's ready. You impressed him a lot, back when you and I first got together..."

Nathlee raised her eyebrows.

"..._professionally_ speaking, of course! After Azkaban." She looked at the evil grin on Secretary Mendoncia's face, and the Predsident grimaced. "Stop it, Nat! We've established you're one of those _weird heterosexuals,_ long ago..." The older witch waved her off, pretending to be more interested in her soup of the day, versus her friend's matchmaking attempts. Eva barreled on, regardless. "Besides, you need to talk to more people than just _me_ and _your sister_..."

The Secretary to the President huffed. "Zat iz a lie! I talk to ozzers! I talk to zat abnormally freakishly 'appy young wife of yours, for example."

"No. That doesn't count. She likes _everyone._" Eva laughed, as Nathlee scowled at her. "You know, you and Uncle Harry really have more in common than you realize, actually...you both have saved the world. Not many have that in common."

"Oui, but Monsieur Potter didn't destroy it a few times, first."

"Hmm, not totally. But he wasn't all sunshine, like the papers make him to be. Maman told me some interesting stories, before she died."

A look crossed the elder witches face. "Speaking of your Maman...you know, I'll strike you a deal, Madame President..."

"Ca pue...damn! This is usually how I end up in a different country, or really hung over, when you start a sentence that way."

Nathlee laughed. "No, for real, ma vieil amie...tell me ze story, ze _real_ story, of 'ow your Maman died, then your Muzzer...and I'll do eet. I'll go out wiz your Batard uncle."

"Deal!" She looked around the cafe. "But..um. _Not here_. Come over to our house... I have the place to myself! The wife is dragging the kids to Beauxbatons tonight..."

An evil look crossed Nathlee's face. "What do-gooding iz she up to, now? Teaching ze school's 'ouse elves 'ow to read?" She snorted.

The President's face grew red. "No..um." She speared a bite of salad, glumly, preparing for the hazing. "She's...uh...giving dance lessons to the Goblins for preparation of the All Hallows Dance..."

The raucous laughter erupting from the Senior Advisor's table caused every patron to glance over, curiously.

"Mon Dieu!" Hooted the former bitter rival of the House of Delacour,as she wiped her eyes with tears of laughter. "Oh, 'ell...she's just so damn...'appy! Madame President...knowing you az I do, after all zee years... admit it...It's like your own private 'ell."

The President chewed, thinking. "I suppose. But its my beautiful hell, one that makes me unbelievably happy, and gives some amazing kisses! I wouldn't have it any other way, Madame Secretary."

"Duh! Az zough you are reporting somezing new to me..bah!" She scowled and grinned, simultaneously. "So...see you at seven...? **No** happiness, zough! You 'ear me, kid? Do _not_ sign me up to make friendship bracelets wiz ze fairies, or any ozzer bullshit, you 'ear? Otherwise I'll stop saving your ass from ze criminals, henceforth."

Eva rolled her eyes. "Please. Like you would leave my life in the hands of the people that are supposed to save it...hah! But you have a deal. Seven it is. I cannot confirm nor deny that there will be happiness, however."

Her friend grimaced, and the President laughed.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_The Palace of the La Veela Prêtresse, Undisclosed Location in France._

Mme. Gabrielle Delacour startled, nearly slipping to a fall.

"Madame _Prêtresse_!" Her senior attendant said, alarmed, as he rushed to her side.

The regal-appearing Veela waved him off, with a smile. "I'm fine, Robby, really. There was just another little small…ripple…in the universe, that just closed." She straightened her flowing silk gown, adjusting herself, and straightened her hair. Her jaw was set.

Robby, her Senior Attendant, the one who had been in her employ the longest, and was the only one who felt comfortable enough asking her such things, inquired, "Your niece, again, Madame _Prêtresse_?"

Gaby nodded.

"Is everything…okay?"

Gaby nodded, again, her smile widening. "Bien sur. Everyzing iz …_just as it ought to be_, actually." She took his arm, and walked out to the magnificent grounds of her Palace, inhaling the invigorating morning air, and looking off to the horizon. "It's perfect, actually…." She said, quietly, smiling serenely.

**FIN.**

* * *

**Epilogue: (Also Known As, "What the Hell Did Fleur ask Hermione?")**

_The Delacour-Granger Residence, 5½ years after the Sacred Grounds, Paris._

"My darling…" Fleur's voice was unusually strained.

Enough so, that it caused her wife, Hermione, to pause, and look up from her parchment. Professor Delacour-Granger was busy was preparing for her next day's lecture. "Fleur?" The scholar asked, concerned.

Fleur crossed the room, the strain evident in her face. She scooped Hermione into her arms, embracing her; and saying legions of words without saying a single one, she looked down at her mate. The beautiful blonde closed her eyes, exhaling, as she spoke.

"My dearest 'ermione…my mate. Do you know how much I love you? " Her hands began to stroke the brunette, tenderly across her face. "Do you know, just 'ow much I …desire you?" The Veela looked at her, with reverence. "Do you know...ma belle... 'ow much I love being a _family_, wiz you?"

Hermione chuckled._ "Do I_?" The scholar took off her reading glasses, setting them down on her forgotten parchment, as she leaned into Fleur's embrace, and returned the gaze into her bride's eyes, lovingly. "Do the four children screaming and threatening to murder one another next door _not_ provide enough physical evidence to that fact?"

"Mais, oui. But..." Fleur simply stroked her wife's still unruly mane. Her eyes seemed to glaze over. "You 'ave been everyzing to me, 'ermione! I want you to know zat... More zan I could ever dream, was possible, for me…"

"Fleur,"Hermione said, concern creeping into her senses. "You're making me nervous…"

Fleur's eyes looked at her, darkly.

"Fleur?" Hermione asked, uncertainly.

The blonde tried to speak, but her voice chocked off. Unable to speak, Fleur looked as though she was going to cry. Hermione had now moved past possible concern, and was now actually becoming alarmed. What Fleur's next statement did was to only amplify that uncertainty.

"Ma belle..." Fleur finally said, slowly. "Ah, well. It... iz time, 'ermione." Fleur, one of France's fiercest Aurors, looked like she might break. "Do you remember, all zose years back, when I asked you for somezing? " She swallowed, hard. "Ze zing I needed to ask of you…_it iz time for you to do it_, now."

Hermione cleared her throat. "Okay, darling…what do you need me to do?"

"Somezing you might consider...bad, but necessary. Somezing zat I zink might kill **me**, _inside_, I'm afraid…"

That evening, lesson plans were completely forgotten, as Fleur patiently explained "the favor," and the rationale as to why it was necessary, to a deeply concerned former Gryffindor, who - as the evening wore on- grew increasingly concerned about her ability to find the courage necessary to do the thing Fleur asked of her.

**XOXOXOX**

_The Palace of the La Veela Prêtresse, Undisclosed Location in France, 5¾ years following the Sacred Grounds._

"Zank you, for coming, Cheri."

The beautiful blond woman practically glided over toward her visitor, her flowing translucent silk robes barely concealing her body underneath. She took the startled visitor's hand in hers, and said, "Allow me, dear 'ermione, s'il vous plait, to give you a tour of ze grounds…"

Hermione swallowed, hard. She replied in a shaky voice. "O-Okay, Gabrielle…"

The head attendant, the one who was currently assigned to chaperoning duties, at present, heard the colloquialism, and his head shot up. "Madame!" He admonished. "_Please address_ Madame as either "Madame _Prêtresse_," or simply the more casual nomenclature, "La _Prêtresse_ " , s'il vous plait, but never by her given nam-"

He was cut off by an angry Gabrielle. "zat will not be necessary today, Robert, zank you. Madame Hermione is _my sister-in-law,_ and has been _my friend_ since before..." Gaby paused. "long before…_my transformation_."

The servant nodded his head, obediently. "As you wish, Madame." Hermione couldn't help but notice, despite La Veela Prêtresse's request, he kept a side eye on her, for the rest of the day. Apparently, one does not disrespect the Prêtresse, Hermione learned quickly.

"You might as well become familiar, 'ermione. It iz...unusual, for mortals to be allowed entrance to this residence; you should enjoy it, zen, I zink. After all, I 'ave no idea 'ow long you'll be here, as...Ohhh!"

Gabrielle leaned over, wincing, as she clutched her forehead. Both Hermione and the Senior Attendant rushed to her, immediately.

"Madame!" Robert fussed, concern in his voice, as he helped her stand. "Is it...?"

She nodded. "Oui." She said, darkly. "Zey are coming more frequently, today..." She turned her gaze, briefly, to Hermione. "I am sorry, I must cut our tour short. Please, enjoy ze library...Fleur said you always loved to read. I will be by, later."

She gave Hermione a brief kiss on the cheek, the lingering nature of it causing Hermione to shiver, momentarily. Their eyes connected, briefly, with something understood that flickered between the two. A second attendant appeared, to take Hermione to the library, as she watched Gaby exit, clearly not well. She was frustrated she was so inert, and frustrated even more that she could not communicate with the outside world while on this island - even her mate.

**XOXOXOXXO**

When Gaby reappeared several hours later, she looked slightly fatigued, but more radiant, if that was possible. And her magic was absolutely alive, Hermione could feel it crackling around her, causing her scanty robes to almost light from within.

"Let's finish zat tour, Maintenant," she declared, to which Hermione was glad to concur after being cooped up for so long and eating dinner alone. The chance to stretch her legs was much appreciated.

She couldn't help but to smile affectionately at her younger sister-in-law, who kept giving her shy glances, and very embarrassed about the obscene wealth that was now hers, as a result of her newfound station. After a whirlwhind tour of the magnificent property and grounds, Gaby concluded them at the final stop: Her rather large and ornate bedroom.

"Aprez-vous," she offered, motioning Hermione in.

"No, you...first, please." She croaked. Hermione ignored the dry feeling in her throat, and the general state of anxiety she was feeling. Gaby glided inside, walking directly to her four poster bed, and sat down. Perched at the edge of the bed, she urged, "Come, 'ermione." She said, softly.

Gaby's translucent robes, now that Hermione had a chance to really look, seemed to reveal more of her amazing body, that she remembered, previously. She could see the swell of her large breasts, and the hint of the tips of her nipples, as they peek out from the top of her bodice. Hermione tried to comply, after all, that's why she was here; and as she moved to take her first step, she found she couldn't . Her feel felt like_ lead,_ pinning her to the spot.

Gaby attempted to hide her hurt expression. "Iz it so 'orrible, dear sister? Do you need some…_encouragement,_ 'ermione?" Gaby asked, noting her hesitation.

"I…don't know. I…" before she could respond fully, she felt it.

_It_ being the "encouragement" rolling off of Gabrielle, in waves, in the form of her pulsed Veela thrall, aimed directly at Hermione. The tidal swell of thrall caused Hermione to nearly buckle, feeling the carnal intoxication, as it pulsed through her bloodstream.

"Oh my God!" Gasped Hermione, stunned as arousal hit her, causing a clenching sensation between her legs. "_Holy Merlin, _Gabrielle...that's so...!"

Another wave of thrall, and Hermione actually shuddered, and stopped talking. She closed her eyes, gasping, her body trembling with newfound desire. "Gaby!" Hermione rasped, and looking up towards the Veela. The Veela looked so much like Fleur at tis moment, eyes wild, and full of lust, but different in that she looked profoundly uncomfortable with these feelings.

"More?" She asked, in a low, breathy voice.

"No! I...I mean, that's not really necess- _ohhhh!_" The Golden Girl doubled over, the intense wave thrall intensifying. Desire raged through her body, causing the area between her legs to moisten, immediately. She tried to gain control of her body, as the visuals of her and Gabrielle Delacour engaged in lavicious acts burned across her mind. It didn't help that she didn't really want to regain control.

Gaby crossed the room, and grabbed her, gently. "Come, dear sister," She said softly, as she led Hermione towards her bed. It was draped with a similar see-through silk that adorned her own robes. It was so soft...and she felt like she wanted to touch it.

Soft. _ The material on Gaby's body_, not the material on the bedpost...

"I...I'm a little nervous, 'ermione, I'm not going to lie."

Hermione took slow even breaths, calming her combustible body. "I think that's only natural, Gaby, I mean...you've only known me as your big sister's wife, all these years..."

**"No.** You don't make me nervous, 'ermione..._far from it._" The younger Veela's awkwardness disappeared, momentarily, as she gave Hermione a look reeking of...utter _want._ Her eyes were turning from black, to early flecks of red, before she closed her eyes, and continued speaking. "I make myself nervous, actually. I'm...inexperienced, 'ermione...:

Hermione's hand and shoulder were on fire where Gaby was touching her, as she led her to her bed. She spoke soft and melodically, "It makes me _nervous_ zat you will be ze one to make me..._a woman._ Right before I become immortal, never being able to feel such pleasures of the flesh, again..."

Arriving at her bed, she turned Hermione around, and leaned her backwards. She pushed, slightly, so that she was lying flat on her back, looking up at the breathtaking Veela. Gaby looked down, taking in Hermione's labored breathing, and she seemed to hold her breath in turn. Her eyes roamed up and down Hermione's body.

"You see, 'ermione, It iz not often zat _La Veela Prêtresse iz allowed to be so sinful..."  
_She reached down, and began to gently unfasten Hermione's robes, her hands shaking slightly.

"Are you being sinful, Gabrielle?" Hermione asked, heavily.

**_"_**_Mmmm..." _She mused, as she removed the last of Hermione's clothing._ "_**Merde**!" Gaby said, openly staring at Hermione's body, brazenly.

"What?" Hermione asked, as Gaby's hand trembled, resting on Hermione's still toned stomach.

"Ohh, _Je désir votre beau corps_, 'ermione!" Gaby gasped. With one wave, she spelled her own robes away, altogether. They were now both completely naked, on Gaby's bed, and Hermione found herself underneath her Mate's younger sister. "Your body...your incredible body, 'ermione...I never imagined." She hovered over the older woman, and there was no turning back, now. They were both without their clothing, staring at one another's forms.

Naked.

Preparing to have sex...

Sex...to_ get pregnant_.

Hermione winced. Pregnant_,_ with the seed other than that of her_ rightful Mate's..._

Gaby laughed, nervously. "Are you still zinking of me as zat 8-year-old girl you first met at your ecole, 'ermione? _Well_…dear 'ermione, what to do? If zere was any ozzer way...but ze ripple in time iz specific..."

"I know, _I know_ all of this, Gabrielle...it doesn't make it _any easier._..!" She huffed. She looked at Gaby's wounded expression, and touched her face, gently. She added softly, "...or harder, for that matter." Gaby's expression lightened, and she smiled at the Golden Girl.

Hermione sighed. "Gaby, you are beautiful, intelligent, amusing, and so ...desirable. You are all of those things. But you are not..._my Fleur_. I'm sorry. This is just...hard for me to get adjusted to, all of a sudden. " Hermione looked down.

Gaby had a strange look pass across her face. "Alors, tell me zen: I can actually see how 'ard your nipples are, right now, poking towards me…and I can see zem.." Gaby licked her lips. "Zey make me know, you want to do zinful zings, you know..." The hand on her stomach trailed upwards. "More zan just your "duty," possibly? Maybe a little?"

Gaby pulsed Hermione with a dose of thrall, causing her to tremble.

"Do you want me to... _kiss zem_, 'ermione? Suck on zem, and nurse? _Ze way you have my sister do it_, to you?"

Hermione didn't register walking over to Gabrielle, or laying down on her bed, or even the first layers of Gaby removing her clothes. But she , or rolling underneath Fleur Delacours' little sister…but there she was.

Guilty as sin.

She registered, finally, what La Veela Prêtresse had just said. "Wait - _how did you know about that_?" She said, angrily.

Gaby looked at her darkly. "We know what we must do...all of us, 'ermione. And while my beloved big sister hates zis, what I will be doing to you...she knows what iz at stake. " Gaby licked her lips, and continued to move her hands upwards, gently stroking Hermione's breasts, lightly. "She told me what you like. What turnz you on. She told me 'ow to..._fuck you_." Her fingertips ghosted across Hermione's right breast, harder, this time.

She leaned over Hermione, her blonde hair covering her eyes that were desperate. "_Kiss me_, 'ermione..."

Hermione looked at the scared woman above her, and put her best Gryffindor forward. She leaned her head upwards, and met the younger woman's lips, connecting them together, with a deep, intense kiss. Warmpth spread across Hermione's body; for being so unnatural, it strangely felt like coming home.

Gaby gasped at the sensation, and Gabrielle inadvertently released another pulse of thrall, causing the muggle-born witch to writhe in her grasp.

"**_Fuck_**, Gaby…just…oh, Merlin….just _do something_ to me, right now!" Hermione demanded. "Just..." Hermione's body, confused, and out of sorts... craved release, and was burning with total desire, despite its perplexed state.

Gaby, for her part, was feeling _desire_ and _carnal lust_ for the first time in her young life, and was not handling it well. She had eyes that converted completely to red, and willed her teeth and claws not to elongate.

Instead, she husked, "Gladly, 'ermione, dear sister…"

Gaby closed her mouth around the hardened nipple, and began to tease it, with her tongue. Hermione shuddered with the deliciousness of it all…it was familiar, like she was making love with Fleur…but_ not_. Her hands dug into the satin sheets, gripping them. Gaby began to massage the other breast, while she sucked Hermione's first nipple, determined.

Without lifting her head, she purred, "Do you want me to_ nurse_ you, 'ermione? Like you have _my sister_ do?"

"I….Gaby, I..." Her head fell back, however, when she felt another pulse of thrall hit her, and she could only arch her back upwards, instead.

Hermione desperately lifted her breast towards the beautiful woman above her, whose mouth was demanding more from her with every suckle. As she felt her milk let down, and listened to Gabrielle Delacour swallow it down her throat, murmuring how good she tasted, Hermione felt a little sick to her stomach. She held her tongue, opting not to say anything aloud.

She couldn't help her body's physiologic response, however, and how hard her opening was beginning to clench, from the aggressive ministrations and wanton moans coming from Gabrielle above her. She pulled off Hermione's nipple, giving a satisfied thrum when she saw how red and angry-appearing she had made the nipple. Looking at the pebbled nub while she spoke, rather than meeting her eyes, she asked Hermione, "do you understand why you are here, 'ermione?"

"To bear you a child. To stay as long as necessary, until I become pregnant...by you." Hermione said, in an automatic and rehearsed voice.

"Zat's right, my dear sister." Her lips moved, to the other side, her mouth greedily finding purchase on the fresh breast, and starting to drain it of its milk.

It was too much for the poor muggle-born witch. The unexpected, but almost instantaneous sensation of a hard oxytocin letdown from Gaby's aggressive breast feeding, which Fleur herself had been rather lax on, lately, due to her hectic schedule... coupled with the nearly toxic doses of thrall she was sending through her in waves, was making Hermione become almost unhinged.

Her voice was nearly primitive. "Oh, _fuck_! Fuck...Gaby, _please_…keep sucking me, deep...oh, yes..just like that. Oh, fuck…"

The refined professor gripped into the blond tresses of the younger sister of her mate, who looked like she hadn't aged a day. Gaby growled, smug with satisfaction, and rutted her pelvis, until it had wedged between Hermione's legs. Her eyes were completely red, similar to Fleur's during their heavy sex sessions. Hermione was growing wetter by the minute.

Gaby's actions were becoming more frenzied. "You taste so.._fucking_ delicious, 'ermione! I can't 'elp but to wonder…what does ze rest of you taste like?"

Hermione spread her legs wider, her need palpable. "Gaby..." She croaked.

The blonde Veela chuckled. "I zink you _want_ me to taste you, almost az badly as_ I want_ to taste you...my dear salacious minx of a sister... _oui?_"

As Gaby began to pepper a trail of small kisses down Hermione's chest, towards the direction of ther tightly shaved mound, she hummed her approval .Gaby hovered above her mound, and Hermione could feel her hot breath, just teasing her.

"Please!" Begged Hermione. "Stop …_ teasing_. I need..."

"What do you need, 'ermione?"

"I need..._need._..your mouth, on me!" She gasped. "_Please.._."

Gaby was drowning in her desire...Hermione was wet…_so wet._ She knew why Fleur craved this woman, so much. So proper, for the world...but so nasty, in their bed, in private. Who would ever expect the_ lust_ that prim Professor Granger was capable of? The slave to physical desire that she could be reduced to, by the touch of a Veela?

_It was intoxicating_, and Gaby was hooked.

For poor Hermione, it was a though she felt her mate's thrall…but her body was confused. She gritted her teeth, her stomach upset. It_ felt_ like Fleur, but it _wasn't_ Fleur. Her confused body was going crazy with desire; it wanted its mate to relieve the pressure...the sexual desire; the need.

"'ermione," Gaby gestured. "You know I 'ave to _fuck you_ wiz my Veela self…to get you pregnant, _oui_?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

"But I am not going to do so, yet. You know why?"

"No….?"

"Because I want a little time…to just be wiz you, you and me….girl to girl, first. I've never wanted zat before, wiz anyone, really. But I _want_ it, wiz you...sister. I want to make love, to you..."

She then laid her mouth directly on Hermione's clit, and began to chew it, causing the Golden Girl to buck underneath her, muttering between ministrations, "…over and over, until you forget your own name…"

Hermione gasped, at the sloshing noises her opening was making, between her legs.

Gaby merely lapped it all up, then continued. "Until you are completely spent from making love with me, as women…then I will impale you, with my Veela hardness, and _knot_ in you.."

Hermione cried out, feeling Gaby's four fingers enter her roughly as she continued to suck on her hardened clit. She pounded, in and out, and she had no words, but simply bucked her pelvis, rolling her eyes to the back of her head.

"Mmmm…so wet, Hermione! I was worried you wouldn't be able to do zis…_I guess I was wrong_…" She continued sucking and circling Hermione's clit, as she entered and withdrew, entered and withdrew...

Hermione fought down the sudden urge to throw up, again. _This was so wrong_…SO wrong. But as Gaby pistoned in and out of her widening hole, she realize it felt so right. So fucking amazing...

**_"Harder, _**Gaby**_…"_**

"Oh,** yes**, my nazty sister,_ yes_! You want to fornicate…you want me to get you off….."

Hermione couldn't resist, as she felt the tightness coil, and Gaby's thrall was going out of control around her. Her mouth was over her own, and she was giving her a sloppy kiss, while she pistoned her fingers in and out of her hole, nearing climax. Their bodies were sweating, slightly, and their desperate breaths filled the room.

_"Come for me_, 'ermione." Gaby gasped. "Just like you do for my sister! Make for _me_ the sounds you make for _my sister_..."

As Hermione's hole clenched down, and she let out the first moan of what would be many that evening, she spit out, "it will _never_ be like the ones I do for your sister Gaby..._never._"

Gaby tried to ignore the nagging hurt that those words caused, as she watched the Golden Girl come undone underneath her. Gaby thought Hermione's climax might be the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, in her entire life; watching as it hit her,_ hard,_ in that very moment—and knowing **she** was responsible for it.

She wanted that, over and over.

**XOXOXOXXO**

For a woman known for her keen intellect and her ability to think and deliver under pressure, the fact she was reduced to an object of lust and want for her body - not her mind - was very unusual for her. It was becoming rapidly apparent just how much Gaby _wanted_ her, on a daily basis, over the next few days.

Hermione tried to bite down her inner turmoil, as her soul cried for her mate. She grimaced. She was there for one reason, and one reason only: to get pregnant.

To bear another yet another child—one created by she and Gabrielle; and time was running out. Gabrielle was destined, soon, to become completely immortal, as the final trappings of her burden as La Veela Pretesse were becoming more and more apparent, everyday. And the final sacrifice of the calling would soon be on Gaby as well…very soon she would fully actualize as the omniscient Veela, and once she became immortal, she would ironically become… _infertile_.

The universe was pretty smart about implementing its own checks and balances.

**XOXOXXOXOXO**

They laid together, wrapped up in Gaby's red satin sheets that Hermione thought might have been the softest things she had ever felt. Despite the enormity of Gabrielle's bedroom – honestly, they could probably fit the majority of the Delacour-Granger residence in just her bedroom – it didn't feel cold or impersonal, especially as she snuggled up to the younger Veela. Gaby was purring as she wrapped her limbs around her sister in law. The blonde thought to herself how decadent it felt, to lay in bed , all day, with her ma—

She stopped those traitorous thoughts.

Not. Mate. Not mate...

She was laying in bed with Hermione. Hermione, her Sister-In-Law! The mate to her _older sister_, not her. The beautiful Englishwoman was here on borrowed time, and only for the purposes of procreating , nothing more. She wasn't here because she wanted to be, and she had to keep reminding herself of that fact.

But that was getting harder and harder for her to do, as time wore on.

Up until now, Gaby herself had always been the good girl, never feeling urges of any kind...not even with her sister's patient lessons on how to kiss. But something had changed in her, the day Hermione arrived. She realized how unfair it was that she had given up her youth, her life, and her "normal" happiness, and never experienced any passion or life first! And now, all these changes in her body and mind were happening, regardless of if she wanted them to or not.

But when she looked at the Golden Girl, who was at present lying next to her, naked, and smiling…somehow, it didn't seem so damn horrible. It felt like she was alive, for the first time.

On one such mornings, they laid in bed together, being lazy. _La Veela Prêtresse_ was amused.

_"__You are so very beautiful,_ my dear 'ermione_…" _She whispered.

_Was it so wrong, really, to want just a little tiny bit of normality? _Gaby wondered, frustrated. She finally found the meaning of life and love—drowning in the brown eyes of her Sister-in-Law. Hermione caused things to catalyze within her body; caused her soul to rage; caused her body to sing. The first time she was brought to a climax at the now very experienced hands of the English witch…there were no words, just a singular purpose and expression of being alive. She had never been naked with someone, literally or figuratively, and Hermione was just so gentle with her…

…except for the times _she wasn't_, which was okay, as well…

One thing Gabrielle Delacour knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was that she wasn't sure she'd have the strength to release her, when the time came.

They had lost count of the numbers of orgasms that had passed between them, as they had sex over and over, pausing only for cat naps and light snacks. After Gaby's thirst had been sated, somewhat, they talked for a long time. Gaby found it so easy to talk to Hermione...she was an amazing friend, and listener. She found herself explaining (albeit while tracing patterns across her naked body with her fingertips) to Hermione in great detail of the events that led them to their present situation.

"So, you call these things...ripples? What are those, Gaby?"

"It iz where the timeline has more than one possible path...and usually, I just observe events happening as a result. Par Exemple: Wizard A opts to steal ze car, so path so-and-so results; whereas, if he had gone to buy a Cafe-au-lait, instead, a different path would happen. Most times, the timeline is set in stone; I only see zees "ripples," every so often. And itz rare -meaning, never- zat I am ze the cause or influence of how the time line proceeds..."

"What caused you to notice this particular ripple?" She asked, as she ran her hands through Gaby's blonde locks, that felt so similar her own mates tresses.

"Well, for one, it was 'uge! And for ze second...well, ze fact my niece was involved, was an immediate attention getter..."

Hermione tensed, again, just like she had when Fleur told her, the first time. It was impossible to think that her Eva, her baby girl, could be the cause of such evil behavior, in the world. So determinidly evil, and the source of so much suffering and pain. The absoulte anthesis of what she had spent her entire life fighting. She sniffled. If having a baby, outside of wedlock was the only way to assure she would never become that evil creature, than so be it.

Hermione fought off the tears. "Are you sure? There's no other way, Gaby, to prevent-"

Gaby cut her off, furious. "Of course not! You zink I made zis up? Zat I would choose to betray my dearest older sister, by fornicating wiz 'er chosen mate?" Gaby huffed. "It iz ze only way!"

"It just seems, so bizarre, to me, I suppose. That this is the solution..." The brunette's eyes cast around the room, nerviously, refusing to look at the etetherial blonde fuming in front of her.

Gaby wasn't sure why exactly she was so angry; was she angry that Hermione doubted her wisdom, and insight? Or was she angry for a darker reason...that, perhaps, she was becoming addicted to the taste and smell of her sister's mate? Was she coveting her, for herself? The French Seer shook her head, forcing the feelings of desire and longing out of her mind, and instead, calmly answered her sister-in-law's question.

"It iz not so strange, if you zink about it. You and I were responses to a ripple, long ago, as well, 'ermione. Zink..."

Hermione furrowed her brow, in concentration. "No...you can't mean...Fleur? Well, that's ridicious! Fleur Delacour is one of the most decorated Aurors, a devoted public servant! A loyal wife-"

Gaby put her hand up, not really interested in hearing Hermione wax poetic about her...competition. A bit more grouchy than she intended, she replied, "Oui, Madame. She iz all of zose zings...indeed. But you can't deny ze darkness, zat you see inside her soul, from time to time...can you?"

Hermione opened her mouth, then shut it, apprasingly.

Gaby smiled. She traced her fingertips, gently, across Hermione's naked chest. "Your breasts, 'ermione, are so..." She leaned down, and kissed the swell of Hermione's chest.

She felt her chin being redirected. "Gaby...?" Hermione's eyes were conflicted. "Please tell me ... the rest."

Gaby huffed. "Fine, zen, ze breasts will 'ave to wait, I suppose..."

Hermione ran her fingers through the flaxen platinum blonde hair, so similar to hair she felt every night at home. She thought, with a twinge of guilt. "I have to know the rest, Gaby. I have to know this is legitimate."

Gaby nodded. She expected nothing less from the smartest witch of the era, after all. "So, Fleur could 'ave been on a much different path, but there were two ripples on 'er behalf...me, and you." She pointed between the two of them. "Vous et moi, 'ermione. You and I. As I child, I gave her someone that was hers; you do ze same, now, as an adult."

"So, naturally, you get a two for one if you combine us, into one being." Hermione mused. "Athough, how do you know it had to be a baby?"

"It was ze only option on ze timeline - ze ONLY one. "

"I am having a baby..."

**"We** are. We are 'aving a little girl, 'ermione."

Hermione was troubled. "That's a lot of responsibility on this child, as a burden...to be her sisters' keeper..."

Gaby laughed. "I wouldn't worry too much, 'ermione. It iz a job she will _relish_...I promize you, zat." Gaby wisely opted not to disclose to Hermione jus_t how close_ their relationship would become.

"I just don't understand how this could happen. I mean, my values...Fleur's values...how could Eva..." The Golden Girl's voice trailed off.

"Really, 'ermione? Do I need to tell a member of Ze Golden Trio, 'ow zee world works, n'est-ce pas? You know zat people are complicated. Zere is good and evil in all of us...alll of us. And wizout ze ripple effects, for Eva, she was so unsteady, growing up. It was daunting, to grow up, zee first born, in zee shadow of two such famous and beloved parents, 'ermione."

"But we never-"

"In zee ripple, 'ermione, life is very different for Eva and Fleur. It iz a tough zing, to be ze alpha of a Clan, and Fleur was incredibly tough on Eva." The slight grimace didn't escape Hermione's wise eyes. Gaby said quietly, "She desperately sought Fleur's approval, nevair quite getting it..."

"Well, Fleur was a little vauge, about how Eva went down that path...do you remember?"

"Mais oui." She said, grimly. "Fleur waz ze catalyst, I zink...wizout ze influence of ze ripple, 'ermione, her natural course waz...not good." She hugged the older woman, knowing the pain this was causing. "Well, from ze beginning, several things would have been noticeably different...wizout ze ripple, she was sorted into Slytherin- sorted for 'er ambition, 'er desire to exceed 'er famous mozzer. Zere, she made several questionable friends and contacts zat would have some bad influence early on; but she was able to fight her darker urges, still."

Gaby sighed. "It'z a bit fuzzy, but I see in zis ripple..zere was zis big blowout between Fleur and Eva, after graduation, when Eva waz first beginning at ze ministry. In Fleur's defense, Eva's arrogance and overconfidence engendered risks, zere were many causalities when zere should 'ave been none...and 'er squad died. Fleur took it badfly, and felt Eva did not take eet seriously enough, and chose to discipline 'er, Veela style. She caused Eva a lot of...injury."

"Oh, no!" Hermione gasped.

Gaby nodded. "Mais, oui. She told her how badly she fucked up, _**être vénère**, _ when she was first starting out...Fleur was very, very 'ard on 'er. She took it very badly. Fleur broke 'er spirit, az well az 'er body. She 'ad no way to blow off steam, no one to turn to...Fleur waz so angry wiz 'er! Some of ze classmates she kept up wiz, introduced 'er to Dark Magic, for ze first time, in 'er desire to distance 'erself from Fleur. Like every zing, she excelled at it, and took it on, more and more. Until it took 'er over, consumed 'er, and soon she waz working az a double agent for ze forces zat will rise in ze future, dark knights and Deat Eaterz, all of zem."

"Criminal by night, Auror by day."

"Oui. Soon, she caught ze attention of ze masterminds of ze rising movement... you remember ze Mendoncia twins?"

Hermione grimaced. "Don't remind me."

"Well, Nathlee and Eva were peas in a pod. Zey finally met a challenge, in each ozzer...and quickly became very bad influences on one anozzer. It would frighten you, Madame, to see ze evil zat zere minds would come up wiz...it was mind boggling! It would only take two short decades for darkness to overtake ze world. It would descend into slavery, darkness, and very dark magic. Zey were way ahead of everyone else, and no law enforcement waz able to stop zem." She looked at Hermione pointidly. "And zis time, zere would be no "Golden Trio" to rise, and save ze day."

Hermione swallowed. "And our baby prevents this?"

"Oui, our bebe is quite magical, in zat way."

Hermione had an unreadable expression on her face. "Gabriellle...How does it turn out, for our baby, in the long run?"

" Fidèles?"

"Who is Fidèles?" Asked Hermione, confused.

"Our bebe, dearest 'ermione. Zat iz she…. Fidèles." Gaby had a wistful smile on her face. "I would zay she iz zee most like you, 'ermione Granger, of all your children. She iz kind, and filled wiz a sense of justice; she iz adored."

"Does she end up happy?"

"Oui, _most definitely._"

**XOXOXOXOXOX**

_Dining Room of the Delacour-Grangers, Paris, Many Years Later._

"Zat iz … _really fucked up_, Eva." Nathlee said, with a sigh.

Eva had finished recounting the story, not holding back a thing, including their dark role in the future that necessitated the end of her parents, eventually. "Yep…its pretty amazing, you know, the idea that the two of us would be capable of such awful things, right, Nat?"

She looked at her dinner companion, whose eyes were distant and unfocused. She nudged her, hard.

"OW! What waz zat for?"

"I'm talking here…its polite to at least feign interest."

"About doing good?" Nathlee sighed. "Look, I'm not going to pretend zat I'm someone I'm not…I struggle, Eva. I struggle, to zis day. I have to wake up every morning, and convince myself to take zat medicine, and to chose the light instead of the dark…" she gave her friend a pained expression. "…and I'm not going to pretend it iz eazy for me, because it iz not."

"No, I never thought it was, Nat."

They regarded each other.

"So…let me ask you this, Nathlee Mendocia…you're clearly a bit more…hmm. More 'virtue-challenged,' than others…and yet here we are. I'm the youngest elected President, and you're my Chief of Staff…and we've expanded civil rights more than any other administration, wizard or muggle…"

"Damn straight!" Nat snapped, rasing her beer to her lips.

"And you've saved my life…"

"Three times!" Grumbled the older Veela.

"Yes." Eva smiled, calmly. "You have saved my life. And you ask for nothing, other than to continue your job. You've never asked for a raise—

"I'm independently wealthy, Eva. Zat would be _stupid_ to draw a salary."

Eva continued. "You've never asked for a promotion, more recognition, more power…"

"Meh! I'm 'appy enough 'aving you ze face of ze operation. People inexplicibly seem to enjoy looking at your face, for some reason that escapes me."

"More glory…"

Nathlee huffed. "I keep ze President alive, on a daily basis! A good, decent President who works 'arder zan anyone before 'er! What glory do I need, ozzer zan to keep ze President alive, to do 'er job? "Glory" would get in ze way of doing _my job_, Eva." She said, getting worked up.

" If its so hard for you, why do you do it?" Eva asked, equally determined. "Your job…your dedication. You're tireless battles for the common good…which you claim is an act, essentially."

Nathlee looked at her, incredulously. "Are yo_u really_ asking me why? Why do I fucking make friendship bracelets and put sunshine up my arse instead of rape and pillage, like I want to?" She laughed bitterly. "Are you really asking me zat, after all zes years?"

"I guess I am."

"I evolved. _I live in zis_ job, so zat** you** will live, Eva." She looked at her friend, letting it sink in. "I am not going to trust some straight-laced, flip-flop wearing… child to take care of you. "

"Beg pardon?"

"You know, zey claim you graduated first in your class from zat damn 'ogwarts, but I am going to 'ave to audit ze records…how can a valedictory student be so damn stupid?" She bristled. "Let me spoon feed you, zen…."

Nathlee rubbed her temples, eyes closed, doing biofeedback.

"Azkaban. I do it because of Azkaban."

"Nathlee, you have been a dedicated civil servant for 15 plus years…no one is sending you back to Azkaban."

She let off a long line of French Swear Words, after which, she finally spoke. "No, stupidhead! Because YOU came to Azkaban. You! You stuck your neck out….in your fledgling administration….and I know it was one of ze most unpopular decisions you ever made; I know. " Their eyes met, in understanding. "So I decided to pay you back, in spades. To prove those ignorant, unworthy people wrong! I had to do it. Not for me …for_ you_."

"For me?" Eva clarified.

"Yes, little one, for you. Because _you_ saw my potential as something more than a … killing machine, or a mercenary. You made me believe, because you believed…you made me zink I could be somezing ozzer zan a criminial, if I would work for it. Your faith...it waz...and iz... contagious."

"Well, I think that debt has been long settled, Nat—"

"No!" She interrupted fiercely. "Until the day I die, I will continue to prove them wrong, and to prove you were right!" Gone was the dispassionate facade she wore on a daily basis. Now the full passion of Nathlee Mendoncia was on display- this was something she bought into, and believed. "You are so amazing, Eva, and it iz so effortless for you, don't you see? I envy you, sometimes! You make it look eazy, Madame President. You outsmarted me as a bebe, in your Mozzer's womb…"

"Merlin's nutsack, please tell me you don't believe that urban legend, too?"

Nathlee's finger was in her friends' face in a snap, and her eyes flashed Veela red. Her voice had an edge to it that Eva hadn't heard in years.

She spoke sternly. "I waz zere, little girl, don't forget zat! It waz not your Mozzer's magic – she couldn't 'ave crossed ze barrier, Eva! It was you…**you** did it. Even zen, you were a natural leader. Don't you dare say ozzerwise, and don't you sell yourself short. You 'ave greatness in you, Eva, and it iz my job to protect zat greatness."She took a breath, calming her inner Veela, and her eyes returned to normal. "So I will support your crazy equality policies, and your financial agenda, and your constant bailouts of ze education system…and all ze stupid zings you do zat no one else 'as ze balls to do! I will ensure you live to fight anozzer day, for ze _rest of my days_, Eva.** Period**."

Eva had tears in her eyes. "Do you hear yourself?** You** are all these things…_in spite_ of yourself. All the more reason that you're a true hero, Nat." She squeezed her friend's hand.

She grimaced. "I am no hero!" She spat. "Hero…hah! A hero iz someone like your mozzer – someone who is good, and decent…who makes ze right choice, when no one iz looking, naturally. Zat is not me. I am no hero, and I'm far from selfless."

Eva looked at her with an amused grin, causing her longtime friend to scowl, deeper.

"Now, what?" She finally broke, annoyed.

"Well, you've got to get yourself sorted, on what makes a hero. My Maman was no saint – but when the time came, she made the right choice. Just like you do, everyday. And it didn't come naturally for her, by the way."

"Speaking of which, finish ze story, before zat overly 'appy wife of yourz makes it home."

**XOXOXXO**

Eva dutifully recounted the highlights that led to the creation of Eva's someone special.

"So it is my understanding, that Aunt Gaby and Hermione finally got pregnant on the night Hermione introduced Gaby to the pleasures of…um, anal lovemaking…"

"What? Too much information! "

"Really, Nat? We are Veela! Give me a break! We fight, or fuck…"

"or make friendship bracelets, az in ze case of your wife." She added, sniggering.

Eva gave her the stink eye. "Anyway, before I was interrupted, the Veela transformed, and made love to Hermione. But in the throes of passion, it was too much for the fledgling Veela, and Gaby…._bit her."_

_"__What?"_ Nathlee said, utterly stunned. "She claimed your mozzer?"

"She did."

"But…zat iz impossible…Fleur 'ad already claimed 'er!"

"I know, I know."

"ive never 'eard of such a zing…."

"Well, now you have. My mother was claimed by two Veela. But in her defense, her one true love was always my mother, Fleur."

Nat was silent.

"But Gaby was infatuated with my mother… she continued to claim her, over and over."

"What?"

Eva nodded. "She was looking for any way to break the bond – to keep Hermione. She was desperate. But it caused a cascade of relactions in her body to happen. She always knew, I think, that it would result in her demise. There was too much confusion and chaos in her mind and body over the betrayal of her bond. It caused a toxic residue that was left behind, and she never let on to us, how sick she really was – even up to the end."

"She died of cancer." Nat said, reciting the paper's notation.

"That's the official cause , yes. A very rare stratified squamous rhabodmyosarcoma of the cardiac muscle. The only one of its kind – so rare, she donated her organs to some Muggle college in boston."

"Always a scholar, your mozzer…"

"indeed she was. Anyway, shortly after Fideles and I got together, my Maman gave herself permission to die, I am convinced. And you know the rest, with my other mother."

"Veela cannot live wizout zeire non-Veela mate, for long."

"That's correct. As you know, it generally takes several months, for the bond to sever, and the Veela to waste away. My mothers' had an unusually strong bond, and it seems to take effect after a few weeks. My mother didn't even last a single month."

The dinner table was silent.

Nat finally broke the loaded quiet, by raising her wine glass. "To Fleur and Hermione."

"To Fleur and Hermione."

They tapped their glasses together, whispering a reverent _Salut!_ And drank. The calm was broken by a familiar, happy voice with a lot of scuffling and noise in general.

"Oh, you're both here! That's fantastic!" Squealed Fideles. "It's perfect…I 'ad to bring 3 little guys 'ome wiz me, zey were stymied by ze footwork of ze elusive Waltz! Come in to ze living foyer, now, si'l vous plait! Now they'll each 'ave a dance partner!"

Eva broke out in laughter, hearing Nat's rather vociferious grumblings on the topic. Somehow, it seemed right, however. All seemed right in the world, as the two friends got up and headed to the living room.

_"Damn you, Delacour, and all your 'appiness..."_

**THE END.**


End file.
